


Isle Unto Thyself

by mentalismmaria



Series: ncverse [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Convoluted Mental Illness Metaphors, Disabled Character, Drama, Family Drama, Gender Dysphoria, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Mystery, Nonbinary Character, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychic Bond, Romance, Trans Character, Trauma, Violence, Worldbuilding, feelings roadtrip, i shoved that shit in a blender then poured it into a mold of my own making, psychic pokemon and the shit they put up with, ridiculously canon divergent, slightly gritty realism au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mentalismmaria/pseuds/mentalismmaria
Summary: After fifteen years, veteran trainer Char returns to Hoenn, and all the baggage she left there after her first gym circuit went horribly awry. The fact that she has the (second) most powerful pokemon in the world in tow may complicate her attempt at living a peaceful civilian life, but not as much as the thing on the other side of a portal that waits for her. Meanwhile, a former Rocket agent is strong-armed by the League into collecting the *actual* most powerful pokemon in the world, who isn’t going down without a fight.[illustrations included]
Relationships: Mewtwo (Pokemon)/Original Character(s)
Series: ncverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657153
Comments: 20
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to No Culture, and if you haven't read that you will be VERY lost. Sorry.
> 
> This is set in a universe where pokemon may or may not have been made to inherit the earth. Humanity may or may not have been sent to subjugate them. Mew may or may not be a god. People in places of power have done a great job of covering these kinds of details up. Pokemon are constantly changing, the goalposts of sapience are always in flux, and the modern superpower of the League struggles to keep humanity on the top of the food chain. Pokemon were meant to be trained, right? It's just... always been like this, right?
> 
> more art, oc nonsense and more at my pkmn blog: https://victoryroadburnout.tumblr.com/

The knock on the door elicited some shuffling and barking from the other side. A muffled “shh” quieted the dog inside, and the door opened for a beady eye to peer out. It narrowed suspiciously at the man, dressed in his plain black suit and sunglasses. The guest gave them no room to question him, quickly flashing a League agent badge.

“We have reason to believe you are harboring an unregistered anomaly, Dr. Fuji.”

The doctor on the other side stood on his tiptoes to peer behind the man, and the rest of the agent’s company gave him pause. The door opened a little more, enough for the Growlithe inside to start trying to nudge his way between them, protecting its master. Before Fuji could even struggle with the dog, fear flashed through its eyes, and it wasted no time in running deeper into the house. 

The being that frightened him walked up to the doorframe, replacing the human agent. The Alakazam was unnaturally large and lanky, piebald with a white face and pale eyes spotted with brown. Fuji stood his ground, unfazed by the psychic. His jaw set in a grim frown.

“I hoped to reunite the two of you under better circumstances, Methuselah.”

 _“We’re not here to detain him,”_ The Alakazam’s telepathy was smooth as silk, settling in Fuji’s brain in a pleasant way. _“I merely wish to speak with my brother in private. You may consider this meeting off the record.”_

Looking into the odd-colored eyes of the psychic, Fuji knew he wouldn’t be able to tell if he was sincere. He hoped deep down that maybe there was some sort of sentimentality still there; that was probably the only thing keeping the League from conducting a fully fledged raid on his cottage.

The old man sighed. He glanced towards the Growlithe trying to cower under a coffee table it couldn’t fit under. “Alright, let me get him… if he’s even here.”

The guest room had gone completely unused until a few months ago; the clutter it used to store was still lingering in the hall in boxes as the new tenant settled in. He had been ‘settling in’ for months now. Fuji didn’t mind having Nicodemus around; he was the perfect roomate in that they both had entirely different schedules, rarely saw each other, and he barely left any trace of his presence (outside of the shower drain getting clogged up more frequently by fur). But the doctor could tell that this reclusiveness wasn’t like him, nor was it healthy. Maybe this visit would change things for the better.

Tentatively, he rapped his knuckles on the door. “Nico? You have a visitor.”

He paused, an ear to the door. He could faintly hear the creak of a mattress, and the lumbering footsteps of someone still half asleep. The Alakazam that Fuji had been harboring was just as doorframe-filling as the one downstairs, with a particularly weary, bloodshot glare that turned quizzical as he started to recognize the presence of another psychic. Fuji gave him a nervous, hopeful smile.

“Your brother wants to see you.”

The Kazam’s ears drew back suspiciously. _“Which one?”_

Outside, the two agents on either side of their Alakazam peer perked up, watching the other clone leave the cottage. Nico squinted in the sun at the Kazam that stood as every bit his opposite. Methuselah’s partially white mane was trimmed down to better fit a suit tailored to his exaggerated frame, and his whiskers were long and proud. He looked more put together than Nico had in months. He already felt like a shabby mess, he didn’t need _him_ to rub it in.

Nico nodded towards the identically dressed humans beside the Kazam. _“Hearing aids, I presume?”_

Methuselah’s white ears flicked with acknowledgment. _“The League has been very accommodating towards my needs. Don’t mind them; consider this a personal visit. This is League business in name only.”_

_“Hard to do that when you have a damn limo in the driveway.”_

_“What can I say? I’ve been promoted recently.”_ There was the slightest hint of a smile beneath the white-streaked whiskers gathered into a loose knot under his chin. Nico could feel a swell of pride coming from him; one that Methuselah only felt a _little_ guilty about indulging in.

 _“Let’s take a short ride, shall we?”_ Methuselah gestured towards the sharp, black vehicle. The human agents immediately made their way over to open the doors for them. Apparently, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Nico had to scrunch up awkwardly in his seat, like with the majority of human furniture. Meanwhile, his brother seemed perfectly at ease inside the limo, going so far as to stretch out his long legs down the length of the cabin. One of the agents opened a compartment, and set to work making drinks.

 _“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Last time I saw you, our whiskers had barely grown in.”_ Methuselah raised a scruffy eyebrow at Nico’s muzzle, and the few inches of trimmed whisker hairs he currently kept. Nico huffed in offense.

_“Alright Mattie, cut to the chase. If you’re looking for Rocket information, I want payment up front.”_

_“Actually, this doesn’t have anything to do with Giovanni, or his organization.”_ Methuselah admitted. He took the martini his assistant handed to him. _“Congratulations on your ‘posthumous severance’, by the way. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow.”_

After a moment of sneering at it, Nico went ahead and took the drink offered to him. He was going to need it. _“I’m sure you were cheering for me in your pampered little League setup while I spent a decade in hell.”_

 _“If I had the authority to intervene earlier, I would have.”_ There was a note of regret in Methuselah’s reply, even if Nico tried to ignore it. _“Keeping tabs on crime lords isn’t in my jurisdiction. I work in the Preternatural branch.”_

Nico sipped thoughtfully. _“Psy research, I’m guessing?”_ He tapped his forehead, above his eyebrows. Methuselah touched the same spot on his brow, where a bump was beginning to form.

_“Previously, yes. Nowadays I work in Defense and Containment. Legendary tracking.”_

Nico narrowed his eyes, suspicion starting to boil in the background noise of psychic connection between them. _“Well, I don’t know any Legendaries around here. I hear Sinnoh’s lousy with them, why aren’t you over there?”_

The piebald clone gave him an aggravatingly calm and collected look. _“Because the most powerful pokemon in known existence is here in Kanto, and I think you know where it is.”_

 _“I don’t,”_ Nico went from savoring his fancy drink to gulping it down, eager for the edge to be taken off his nerves. _“I know_ **_of_ ** _them, but it’s none of my business where they went after they were freed.”_

 _“So you were there, back in Viridian when it was released?”_ Methuselah’s ears perked up.

 _“I was right beside them when they vaporized Giovanni their damn self.”_ There was an almost nostalgic look in Nico’s eyes, thinking back on it. _“I wouldn’t bother trying to find them, if you know what’s good for you.”_

He watched the other Alakazam’s strange eyes crinkle with quiet mirth. _“Oh, I’m not the one who’s going to be finding it.”_

 _“And neither am I. Excuse me-”_ Nico politely handed one of the agents his empty glass, and would have blinked right out of the car if a heavy, invisible force didn’t press him back into his seat. Methuselah’s amused expression fell.

_“I’m not finished.”_

Nico settled back in his seat, resigned to being held hostage. _“Of course you’re not. My apologies.”_

Seemingly satisfied with the other clone’s compliance, Methuselah folded his large hands in his lap.

_“I presume you’re acquainted with the Sootopolis Incident some years back?”_

_“The big earthquake? Yeah I’ve heard of it.”_ Nico narrowed his eyes, almost daring him to say what he knew this pasty bastard was going to ask.

_“I presume you’re familiar with the trainer responsible for it?”_

_“Formerly.”_ Don’t say it. Don’t you _dare_ say her name you miserable fuck-

_“Did she tell you about her Gardevoir, as well?”_

Nico froze, suddenly at a loss for words. The question was completely unexpected, and ten times worse than any of the ones he predicted he would say. Methuselah observed his Deerling-in-the-headlights look with a nod of acknowledgment. _“I see you must be. It was a terrible tragedy for everyone involved, of course. But what my Bureau has been interested in is the anomaly that the psy-type has left behind.”_

Methuselah’s eyes flicked towards one of his assistants, who promptly produced a laptop from another compartment. They brought up a picture of the site as it stood now; it seemed that an entire building had been built around the dark, reflectionless hole that stood suspended ten feet in the air. Some sort of frame had been set around it, possibly to try and keep it from getting any bigger. A set of retractable stairs leading up to it gave the impression that they’ve tried to go _in_ at some point.

_“The static portal that was opened in Kyogre’s lair has been one of our most heavily contained anomalies. We’ve been sending satellites in it for some time; our current hypothesis is that it’s actually a gateway to the Distortion World itself.”_

The assistant flicked to the next image, showing a vague and grainy grey blob in a sea of black.

 _“As you can see, what satellites that_ **_do_ ** _make it back don’t give us much to work off of. This is the first time we’ve actually gotten any hint at an object in the void for, well, years.”_

 _“So, congratulations?”_ Nico’s telepathy dripped with sarcasm, looking ultimately inconvenienced from this entire ‘visit’. He would much rather be back in bed, pretending he was able to sleep.

 _“The object in question is getting closer,”_ Methuselah conveyed a very serious sense of concern through their connection, _“and considering nothing has ever actually gone through the portal before, we consider this an imminent threat.”_

Nico wasn’t convinced, uncomfortably trying to cross his legs in what little space he had. _“And? What, do you think Giratina is going to come knocking on your door? For all you know, it's a smudge on the lens.”_

Methuselah only looked minutely amused by his brother’s jab. _“Let me put it this way: there are only two options for what this object could be. One is the Lighteater, as you have mentioned, and the other would be the Titan of the Oceans. Both have their own reasons to violently react to their long imprisonment.”_

The piebald psychic took the laptop to give the vague image a distant look, his expression unreadable. “ _We could be looking at a very messy case of Legendary rampage regardless of who it is. Thank goodness, Giovanni provided us with something well acquainted with battling gods. You might say it’s something adversarial to them, in nature.”_

Nico’s ears flattened towards the small, sardonic smile the other clone gave him. _“Why are you including me in this?”_

 _“Obviously we can’t just catch it and expect it to do our bidding. This is going to be something of a negotiation.”_ Methuselah gave him a flippant shrug, _“besides, it’s on protected land. Hiding in a place I legally - and personally - can’t touch: the Indigo Colony.”_

Nico did a double take. _“Indigo Falls? Really?”_

 _“You’re familiar with it, of course.”_ There was just a hint of resentment underneath the otherwise suave and collected thoughts of the business-like Alakazam. _“The League takes the sanctity of free land very seriously; we aren’t even allowed to set foot there unless invited.”_

_“There’s something else, isn’t there?”_

Methuselah sniffed, ears flicking. _“I don’t care to impose on them. Perhaps it’s different for you; you did manage to evolve the traditional way.”_

… Ah, so it _was_ that. Nico smirked. _“Afraid of a little culture shock, are we?”_

He watched his brother visibly bristle, with the assistants on either side of him starting to fidget uncomfortably in turn. Ah, to be on the other side of this conversation for once was a delight.

 _“I have no interest in our species’ spiritual mores.”_ Methuselah answered curtly. “ _Besides, you share a similar history with Giovanni, do you not? Perhaps that will give you an advantage. Let the Adversary know that we want to work with it amicably, bring it to the Sootopolis Site and maybe we can finally induct it into our anomaly registry, as well.”_

The Alakazam smiled in an unnaturally human way. The two humans beside him reflected his expression. Nico fought against the habit of putting a hand up to his whiskers.

_“What if I refuse to help you?”_

_“Then we will need to move onto the plan B my associate in Hoenn pitched. I for one figured Ms. Jessop would be less than cooperative if sought out; or perhaps even escalate the threat itself, should it be Kyogre.”_ Methuselah watched Nico’s reaction quickly turn to fury again with a bemused look. _“Besides, don’t you need the job?”_

Nico tried to look for some sort of tell on the Kazam’s pale face, since his mind was understandably solidly blocked from his reading. _“What are you paying me?”_

_“Name your price.”_

Nico thought for a moment, hands fidgeting as he hesitated. _“I want… I want actual severance papers. Full training exemption; make me a citizen of Fiore if you fuckin’ have to.”_

_“Done.”_

_“Also,”_ Nico hesitated again, and sighed. _“Promise me I’m not going right back to doing the dirty work of a megalomaniac again?”_

Methuselah preened his luxurious mustache. _“I suppose that depends on who you’re accusing of being a megalomaniac.”_

He chuckled quietly at the earnestly admonishing frown he received in response. _“Of course, Nicodemus. You know you have the utmost sympathy from me, over your unfortunate circumstances.”_

Nico’s shoulders sagged with a huff. _“Good enough, I guess.”_

As if on cue, the limo stopped, u-turned, and drove back the way it came. Nico was suspicious of the prompt change in route; was there even a driver beyond the opaque privacy screen? It didn’t feel like it. Methuselah gave him a knowing smile.

_“Your help to the League will not go unrecognized, Nicodemus. It would be remiss of me not to exercise my meager power of nepotism for my twin.”_

_“Hmph,”_ Nico looked away from his gaze, uncertain and unwilling to answer that. _“So, how did you come into these meager powers of nepotism, anyways? I wouldn’t expect the League to put one of_ **_us_ ** _in charge of anything, clone or not.”_

Methuselah looked out of the tinted windows. The assistant closest to it mirrored him. _“My guardian was a kind and generous man, all things considered. On his deathbed he appointed me as his successor, and as his right hand man I was the most qualified. Together we used some of the League’s bureaucracy loopholes to our benefit, and now I get to watch the entire executive board squirm in their seats whenever I enter the room.”_

There was equal parts ironic delight and inured bitterness to the texture of Methuselah’s telepathy. Nico nodded in understanding. It wasn’t just the inherent prejudice that the higher-ups in the League more than likely had; it was the overall effect the clones seemed to have on everybody. The uneasy, uncanny nature of their presence in the world. With some of the things Nico learned about the nature of their world in the last few months, he was starting to wonder where that really came from.

Nico could feel and hear the limo return to the rough gravel road he had become accustomed to. He had some fondness for Fuji’s quiet country home; he wasn’t sure what he would have done without the safety net of his creator’s kindness. Fuji was almost too compassionate for his own good. Nico needed it, as much as he would have claimed otherwise.

The limo came to a halt, the gravel driveway crunching beneath its tires. Nico felt the subtle, oppressive psychic force keeping him in place lift from his body.

 _“It’s been good seeing you again, Nicodemus.”_ Methuselah clasped his inhuman hands together, and nodded his oversized white head. Nico couldn’t sense a drop of sincerity from those words, but he still nodded in agreement.

_“Glad things are working out for you, Mattie.”_

He felt a bit of satisfaction in how Methuselah wrinkled his pink nose from the continued use of an old nickname. The piebald Kazam gave him a curt nod. _“Right. Don’t disappoint me, Nicodemus. Be wary around this ‘Adversary’, if it can really be called that.”_

Nico almost paid what he said no mind, until he noticed a detail that made his ears draw back in distaste.

_“You know, it’s funny how you’ve taken to calling every pokemon that you see as below you an ‘it’.”_

Methuselah didn’t hesitate to give him a dark and mirthless smile. _“It’s good that I see my brothers as my equals then, isn’t it?”_

Fuji watched Nico trudge back into the house, looking almost as bad as when he first came up to the stoop and asked for sanctuary. Underneath the table, the Growlithe whined sympathetically, and squeezed between the dining chair legs to greet the Alakazam.

Nico slumped onto the couch, still processing the weight of the task he was more or less strong-armed into. The doctor popped his head in from the kitchen.

“So, uh, what was he here for? Because I sincerely doubt he actually wanted to visit you as family.”

 _“Take a wild guess,”_ Nico’s ears flicked in annoyance as the dog jumped onto the couch for attention. He gave a begrudging ruffle to the puff of fur on top of its head.

Fuji brought in a teapot and a couple of mugs. One was considerably bigger than the other. “Is it more - how did you put it - _‘clone nonsense’_?”

_“Oh, it always is.”_

Nico sighed, looking over the living room he had become accustomed to. It was a little small for him, but he learned to appreciate the concept of ‘cozy’ associated with small, homey spaces. Fuji had taken the effort to provide for him to a degree he didn’t expect from anyone else. He was almost too comfortable now, and the visit felt like a cold shock back to reality. Sensing his distress, or perhaps noticing that he stopped petting them, the Growlithe tried to clamber onto the Alakazam’s lap.

 _“Ugh, Diogenes...”_ Nico grumbled at the very insistent affection, telekinetically pulling the dog and its slobber away from him. Despite the sour look on his face, he simply psychically flipped the dog onto its back, and took to taking it into his arms like a baby. The Growlithe seemed delighted at this development.

“So, what did he want?” Fuji poured a significant amount of hot water into the larger mug, along with an extra tea bag.

 _“You know that…_ **_incident_ ** _I mentioned to you that so generously severed me from Giovanni? The League wants the pokemon responsible.”_

Fuji abruptly stopped midway through filling his own cup, and paled. “Ah… that one?”

Nico nodded grimly, looking slightly less serious than he would if he wasn’t cradling his Growlithe close.

 _“I don’t know what they have in mind. I know better than to take anything they say at face value.”_ The Alakazam sighed, confliction clear in his face. _“Selling out a fellow clone to people no better than Giovanni probably ruins this streak of moral reformation I’ve been keeping up, huh?”_

“Well, what can you do?” Fuji gave him a concerned smile, and a shrug. “I mean… it’s not like it’s up to you if the clone is going to comply or not. I don’t think anyone’s going to be able to force them into anything, considering what you’ve told me.”

Nico’s ears flicked, and he looked up from rubbing the downy underbelly of the Growlithe. _“You know what? You’re right. What are they going to do, make the Adversary take orders from_ **_anybody_ ** _after what they’ve been through?”_


	2. Chapter 2

Thousands of miles away, the sun was just about to reach the very bottom of the flat horizon the ocean formed. The clear sky was amazingly vast, and the lightshow of color that dawn brought was just about to begin. Mewtwo, at the highest point of the ship, had a front row seat.

There wasn’t much else to do when Char was asleep, and Mewtwo in particular seemed to be a natural morning person. Unfortunately, with all the time zones they’ve been crossing, he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant anymore. Maybe time really was fake? Maybe Char wasn’t just saying that in order to excuse her poor perception of it.

The clone braced himself against the chilly breeze coming off the water, and admired the gradual lightening of the pre-dawn sky; culminating in the gradual bloom of peach and orange tones towards the east. Mewtwo was amazed every time he witnessed it. To think that phenomena like this would ever become something boring and commonplace was beyond him. Every day was miraculous, because every day he experienced freedom. Something he wasn’t made to know so intimately.

It was early enough that very few of the mariners on board risked seeing him, so he was content to relax on a roof on the front end. It helped that he blended in with the white panelling, he figured. If there was anything he learned during the long time spent on board, it was dodging discovery while in close quarters. In the nearly two weeks they’ve been travelling, he was the only one with abilities that allowed him to go where he pleased. Meanwhile, Char… well. The conditions of a stowaway were starting to grate on her.

Just above the constant white noise of the ocean, Mewtwo’s ear flicked from a familiar sound. A seabird? He squinted, and relied on his passable night vision to pick out a few white birds soaring over the water. That meant they had to be close to shore, right? Unless all these birds came out here to die…

Going on a hunch, Mewtwo flew closer. As far as he was willing to leave the ship, at least; there was something quietly terrifying about levitating over open water, and the sheer vastness of the ocean made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable. The Wingull, the fearless creatures that they were, wouldn’t have given a shit if a Gyarados breached the surface to snap at them if it meant there might be fish this far out. Mewtwo admired that in birds.

_ “Hello?”  _ The clone attempted to engage them, resulting in the Wingull passively turning away from him slightly in their flight. Mewtwo remembered himself, and tried another approach.

_ Land? _ He attempted to convey in an abstract manner, trying to evoke imagery they might recognize. The Wingull seemed confused by the sudden thoughts inserted into their heads, but it still made them think about the shore they came from.  _ Land… shore… sand _ . It wasn’t far; their short memories still had the sand beneath their feet fresh on their minds. One of them reminisced about the rock they ate just a few hours ago. That was about all the information he needed.

They were close… they were so close. Soon, they would be in Hoenn.

Below deck, in the farthest corner of the cargo hold, a little den had been made in a space closed off by containers. It was only reachable through teleportation or climbing, and Charlotte Jessop was capable of neither. She resigned herself to the overwhelming boredom of being the stowaway who was better off just hiding instead of traipsing about; only venturing out with Mewtwo’s aid to sneak into a restroom, or sometimes endure teleporting outside for some fresh air in the night. It was miserable, but it would be worth it. Her grasp of the days was tenuous, but hopefully, their journey would be nearing its end.

Huddled up in her sleeping bag, Char was content to piss away another day lazing about, dying of boredom when Two wasn’t around to keep her company. The clone had gotten much bolder since they more or less removed Team Rocket from the equation, and that meant he clung to her less. Unfortunately, Char was left to deal with her own attachment issues by herself.

She was still trying to isolate exactly what her mind and her illness demanded from psychic connection. Not that she would be able to on her own; the neuroscientists and parapsychologists that robbed her of her teenage years with their studies still didn’t completely understand what she went through. The effects of the Embrace, the parasitic bond of a Gardevoir and their trainer, were only really recognized through her own case. Now, Mewtwo was the psychic she bonded with, and that was a whole new can of Diglett.

Waking up without the psychic by her side was commonplace now, but at least his range of psy presence made it easy for her own, less impressive abilities to find him. He was outside again, and she felt the emotional feedback of taking in the gravity of another day free and alive. His optimism felt almost unreal to her. His sheer happiness almost made her feel like everything was going to be okay.

Mewtwo’s presence filled the empty spaces in her mind in that comfortably familiar way, sending a note of abject enthusiasm through their connection.  _ “There’s land in the distance! We’re here!” _

“Oooh no we ain’t,” Char mumbled, knowing he could hear it even if he wasn’t present while they communicated. “They’re probably gonna do the whole ‘sit out a ways with a thumb up their ass’ thing for a few hours before they come to port. What do you see so far?”

Char paused, and concentrated. The imagery Mewtwo conveyed was vague, but the distant shore had a modest port town clustered around a bay that brought a twinge of nostalgia to her heart.

“Hot damn, we really are going right to Petalburg, huh?”

It was surreal, coming back home. Almost as surreal as waking up the day after she saw Giovanni basically disintegrate before her very eyes. If you told her a few months back that she would be heading back to Hoenn with a nice young man she planned to introduce to her folks, she would have called you a liar and an idiot. If you told her that the man was some strange Legendary clone that eschewed his intended purpose, she would have been slightly less surprised. That was just the kind of life she lived.

There was a noticeable change in air pressure as Mewtwo blinked back into their little nest, smelling of sea salt. He contentedly settled down next to her, and received a few kisses in greeting along the scars on his head. Looking into her eyes, he gave her a smile sweeter than Char felt she deserved.  _ “So, when do you want to blink out of here?” _

Char sighed, and looked over the ambient mess that came with living in the isolated space for a period of time. “Okay, uh… gimme a minute. I don’t care if we gotta fly; the sooner we get out of this hellhole, the better.”

Mewtwo watched her as they both scrambled to pack. Char didn’t look this happy since they snuck on board weeks ago. He was glad to see the light in her eyes again; if she was miserable, he was miserable, and not just from the bond.

Everything they needed was stuffed into the two bags they shouldered. Char turned off her battery lantern, and plunged them into darkness as Mewtwo wrapped his arms around her waist, preparing himself.

_ “Are you ready?” _

Char grumbled with discomfort, going rigid in his grasp as she anticipated teleportation. “Do it.”

For Mewtwo, it was almost instinctual. Teleporting was as natural as flying, and neither were pleasant for a human like her. Char dug her fingers into his shoulders, holding her breath and shutting her eyes tightly. The shock of the sudden change in air pressure, light and temperature was something she would never get used to. She felt instantly nauseous, breaking into a cold sweat as every organ in her body seemed to be screaming at her, in unison:  _ what the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ did you just do? _

It simply wasn’t something a non-psychic was meant to do. Mewtwo rubbed her back sympathetically, and began the flight towards land.

_ “This isn’t pleasant for me either,” _ the clone tried to talk her through the ordeal,  _ “I hate the ocean, it just screams ‘death trap’. I don’t know how people could live their lives on boats like this.” _

Char tried to take deep, centering breaths, not even risking opening her eyes and looking down. “God, just get it over with.”

_ “Are you alright? You’re taking this a little worse than usual.” _

There was a clear and underlying fear beyond the usual discomfort she felt. She sympathized with his opinions on the ocean more than he realized. The unpleasant memory of watching the vast, blue expanse get closer and closer with no way to stop passed between them, and Char shuddered against him.

“Man,  _ fuck _ heights.”

Flying the last few miles to shore was, mercifully, shorter than waiting for the ship to port. Mewtwo tried to at least use their connection to bring her the comfort of the sights she couldn’t see; the encroaching town they were coming up to, the massive volcano in the far distance. Swerving to the right, Mewtwo opted to find an unoccupied stretch of beach.

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks made Char dare to open one eye, and Mewtwo could feel the sudden rush of emotion as his own. Nostalgia, homesickness, pining over the good memories of her childhood… all things he never really got to experience himself. He never had a home to go back to. He never had a  _ ‘history’ _ with anything, outside of laboratories.

Sheltered from prying eyes, but not too far away from town, Mewtwo finally landed on a secluded stretch of shoreline. Feeling her foot on solid ground, Char could finally open her eyes all the way. She took in the trees, the color of the sand and earth, the ocean lapping at the beach… Looking towards the inland, she could almost make out the very top of Mt. Chimney, and the thin plume of ash and smoke that wafted from its mouth. It was as if she never left.

Mewtwo smiled at the way her chin dimpled with the effort to not seem moved. Char roughly wiped her eyes, keeping a hand on his shoulder to stay on her still-unsteady feet. The trainer popped a pokeball out of the slot on her belt, and pressed the release button.

With a dull thud, a massive fighting type reconstituted on the sand. Time didn’t exactly pass in pokeballs; the two-week-long trip to them was barely a second to the Hariyama. Nevertheless, he was used to being brought out to defend his trainer first, with everything else coming second.

Taking a moment to reorient himself, the realization that he was on familiar ground dawned on him, and his ursine face softened when he gazed up to the volcano. The reverberation of Yanna’s native tongue took on a quietly reverent inflection.

**“Home at last.”**

“See? I told ya we’d make it, this time.” Char grinned, and went over to hug his thick arm gratefully. Yanna gently patted her back with a broad hand. Mewtwo, on the sidelines, was still content to see the two old friends process their arrival in their own way; they had a history here that he didn’t.

Mewtwo watched curiously as Yanna helped Char get to her knees on the sand, and together they placed their palms flat on the ground, heads bowed for a moment of silence. The clone only gathered bits and pieces about the Hariyama and their culture, and he was surprised to see how Char had taken to it. Were all the Hoennese like that? He guessed that now, he’d find out.

**“Your children return to you, O Father under the Mountain. Mother beneath the Sea, ah…”** Yanna paused in his brief prayer, and sighed.  **“Forgive us. Return to us, please.”**

“It’s not your fault, it's mine.” Char mumbled, her hair in her face as she stared at the sand.

The Hariyama got to his feet, rubbing the sand from his palms before helping Char slowly stand back up. She winced from the shock of pain. All that time spent without a chance to exercise just made her bad knee stiff and uncooperative. The trainer sighed, slipped the retracted cane from a loop on her bag, and extended it. She looked forward to being able to stretch her legs again, at least.

“Right. Let’s get a move-on. We’re outside of Petalburg, so dad’s the first thing on the agenda.”

**“Petalburg,”** Yanna repeated, and Mewtwo noticed that the town’s name had its own Hariyama pronunciation.  **“Are you really going to show your father** **_the cat?_ ** **After all that’s happened to you?”**

Char kept walking ahead of them as she turned around to shrug, and stumbled from trying to walk backwards. “Well, what do you want me to do? It’s not like I can hide him.”

_ “Well, I’m fine with having to hide, if you think it won’t be safe.” _ Mewtwo timidly added, hovering to catch up to her. Char gave him a firm look in response.

“He’s safe, you’ll be safe. Dad’s a good man, just… try not to let him know about  _ us _ just yet, y’know? Let him process the whole  _ you _ thing first.”

Mewtwo’s tail swished with growing concern.  _ “Do you think he’s not going to approve of our relationship?” _

“Well, it’s not that, it’s just…” Char shrugged again, focusing on making her way through the underbrush of the forest. “Let’s just say that if I took some nice Hariyama man home, he wouldn’t bat an eye. But a  _ psychic? _ That’s, uh... well, you know we got baggage over that.”

_ “Oh.” _ Mewtwo’s telepathy grew soft and withdrawn.  _ “I see. He was there when you were Embraced, wasn’t he?” _

Char gave him a sad smile over her shoulder, a certain note of regret in her eyes. “Honey, my parents got me that damn plant in the first place. He doesn’t just mistrust you psy-types; he’s  _ afraid _ of them.”

-

Mewtwo didn’t mind having to stay out of sight, flying over rooftops and trees. He didn’t especially want to be around all these strangers anyways. As Char and Yanna entered the town from the bordering woods, he simply took in the sights on his own time.

It was strange and fascinating how everything looked so similar to Kanto, yet so different. There was a marked difference in the structure of most of the buildings, favoring wide double doors and squat, one-story buildings. The gym was easily the flashiest building in town, with League branding drawing the eye to it naturally. It seemed busy, too; mankind and pokekind alike were going in and out of its open doors as they pleased.

Char and Yanna walked straight towards it, though they kept looking every which way, fascinated themselves over how much had changed. The gym definitely had one of those League-sponsored remodeling jobs since they left. The new style of branding was similar to the one they grew up with, but different in a strange, off-kilter way. The shops that clustered around the facility were almost entirely different now, and had doubled in number. Back in their day, Petalburg was a one-Muddsdale town with a gym that hobbyist trainers usually stopped just short of reaching in their circuit. Now, it was… basically the same, just with more commercialization.

“Aw damn, they took out that fish n’ chips place down the block…”

**“I see they got around to adding the rest of the sidewalk.”**

“I wonder if they ever actually  _ paved _ the road into Littleroot?”

**“The gym looks impressive. Do you think your father is even still running it?”**

Yanna’s comment made Char pause, just in front of the building. She gave it an uncertain look, doubt beginning to mix with growing anxiety.

“Do you think he’ll even recognize me now?”

Her companion answered with a gentle push to get her moving forward again, and somehow that put her mind at ease more than words could. Char gave a final glance towards the distance, noticed Mewtwo watching her from a nearby roof, and gave him a hopeful smile she knew he could see. The clone watched her disappear into the building, and wished her the best.

The entrance hall of the gym was massive, and echoed with the chaotic din of trainers and their pokemon. Char noticed the sheer amount of children with their equally young partners, and sighed. “Rookie season… we’re gonna be here for a while, huh?”

The line to the battle registry and the information desk were both packed; they weren’t getting to them anytime soon. Too many bossy, demanding route brats. Char already couldn’t hear herself think over all these goddamn rookies. Going off of vague memory and intuition, she spotted the door in the far corner of the room. All of the gyms had backways like these, used by coaches and other employees to quickly go from arena to arena. Char and Yanna blatantly ignored the ‘employees only’ sign, and let themselves in.

Through the well-insulated walls, one could still hear the muffled sounds of battle. Coaches had a strict schedule to try and run as many trainers through the challenges as their quotas demanded. It was a job Char didn’t envy; League-sanctioned battles were highly performative, and the wins were often artificially secured. Nobody was going to want to be a trainer if they lost too much, kids especially. Kids were the League’s bread and butter, after all.

A few coaches on break or en route to another room eyed the woman without a uniform with her Hariyama partner, making their way down the hall with determination. Only a couple seemed to do a double take, recognition dawning on the faces by the time she was already passing them. If they didn’t know better, that woman looked just like their boss.

At the end of the line, Char remembered keenly where the last door would lead. Hesitating, she took a ragged, uncertain breath. She flinched despite herself when Yanna put a massive hand on her shoulder.

“H-he’s still mad at me, I know it.”

The Hariyama gave her the stern grumble she needed. **“I doubt he is a man who holds a grudge, much less on his own daughter.** **_Go_ ** **.”**

Char held her breath as she opened the door.

The gym leader’s office was simple, decorated traditionally with a low table and cushions for pokemon as well as a couch. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing out the golden color in the woven floor mat and making all the displayed League awards shine. No matter how much the gym itself had changed, Norman’s office had stayed the same for upwards of thirty years. Char didn’t expect anything less.

The older man in a League tracksuit was just sitting down at his desk, getting the clerical side of work out of the way before getting to his battle schedule. Even from the other side of the room, Char recognized him. His dark, curly hair was peppered with gray, and the laugh lines around his mouth were more pronounced with age, but it was him. She looked so much like her dad that he would joke when people tried to compliment her on it. This poor girl, lookin’ like a thirty year old man. It took Char until she was thirty herself to really see what he meant.

He noticed her enter the room, but barely glanced up as he half-heartedly scribbled his signature on League documents. Then, he stopped. And squinted. And then finally gave in and put his glasses on. Char awkwardly stood there, feeling like a jackass as she gave him a smile and a wave.

“Hey, Dad. I’m home.”

Norman shakily got up from his seat, surprise dawning on his face as he took uncertain steps towards her. The look in his eyes tugged at her heart. Char expected some kind of hug, but she didn’t expect  _ this _ kind of hug; the firm, grateful squeeze that he locked her into, full of the desperate longing of a parent who didn’t know where their child was. Norman let out a deep, relieved sigh.

“Charlotte, where  _ the hell  _ have you been?”

Char, despite the knot of tears in her throat, chuckled. “It’s a long-ass story.”

Norman pulled back from her, and looked his grown daughter up and down. His smile was lopsided from the old scratch scars on his cheek, partially paralyzing that side of his face. Char tended to subconsciously mirror the crookedness of his expressions, having grown up around them.

“Hold on; I’m calling off my eight o’clock match.”

“Aw, Dad, you don’t have to do that…” Char trailed off, as the man already went to get a hold of his secretary. Feeling awkward once again, she hobbled over to the couch.

Yanna had already made himself at home, relaxing on one of the cushions in front of a circular table that was hollow in the middle. A brazier for heating up tea was in the hole, well-used but not recently cleaned. He gave the shocked look on Char’s face a slightly smug smile.  **“Told you.”**

Norman still had his eyes on his daughter as he went to take a seat with them, an incredulous expression on his scarred face. He only snapped out of his stare to give Yanna a firm pat on the shoulder.

“ _ Arceus _ , it’s good to see you two. I mean, I knew you could take care of yourselves, but,” he ran a hand through his graying hair. “When I realized you left Hoenn altogether, I thought that was it. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

Char blinked at him. “You uh, you tried looking for me?”

“Honey,  _ of course _ I did. I thought it was just a  _ tantrum _ . I thought you would  _ come home _ .”

Char was frozen, regret starting to well up in her again. She suddenly couldn’t bear to look at him, opting to stare at the old coals in the brazier instead.

“M’sorry, Dad. I just… needed to get out of here.”

Norman nodded quietly in understanding, and for a moment they all sat there in silence. Processing the fact that they were all in the same room. Yanna coughed politely, and rose to his feet.  **“I’m making tea. Sire, is everything still in its place?”**

“Oh, yeah uh, sure.” Norman stammered. He looked more out of his element than Char had ever seen from him. He turned back to her with a slightly more relaxed smile. “So, c’mon, where have you been? Still out route-trawling, causing mischief?”

Char snorted. “Psh, haven’t done that in a while. Besides, I ain’t fit to go on the route no more. Leg’s gotten too bad.”

Norman’s eyes flicked towards her prosthetic leg, its metal ankle just barely visible under her pant leg. “Phantom pain, still?”

“Yeah, plus the knee’s gone bad. All that surgery to keep it on just fucked it up in the long run.”

“Well, better a leg than your life.” Her father’s tone turned serious, whenever it came to this subject. He had his share of scars as a trainer, but he was an adult when he received them. Char was twelve when she was maimed, and everything came crashing down on her.

Slowly but surely, the strange, surreal, profoundly awkward feeling of reunion started to wane as the both of them settled down. Yanna put the pot on, and dutifully set up a sturdy Hariyama-style tea set. Char had the difficult task of trying to explain the sheer amount of shit she went through.

“Well uh, long story short, I stowed away to Kanto. Got a job training on commission; did some uh, shady dealings to keep my meds in order. Got with a guy in one a’ those criminal gangs for a bit, and left when his hustle started turning him into an asshole. Went to Johto to see mom’s side of the family too, but I had to bail when I got  _ this _ :”

Char lifted up her shirt on her right side, and Norman’s eyes widened in brief horror at the patch of clawed-up scar tissue that covered a significant part of her chest. She covered it back up promptly. “Yeah, turns out, Altaria only look cute until they decide you’re too close for comfort to their nests.”

Norman pinched his brow, and shook his head slowly. “Lord of the mountain, Charlotte…”

“What, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Charlotte, you’re not invincible. How much more of this do you think you’re going to  _ take _ , huh? You’re walking with a cane now, for fuck’s sake.”

Char bristled at his admonishing tone, but tried to laugh it off with a shrug. “Aw c’mon, I got like… seventy-five percent of my body parts still, give or take.”

The look he gave her made guilt settle in the pit of her stomach, and she raced to change the subject.

“So uh, how’s Mom doin’?”

An uncomfortable sort of surprise flashed on Norman’s face, and suddenly he was stammering again. “Well, ah, about that…”

Char’s nails dug into the hem of her leather jacket, dreading his answer.

“...She went back to Johto, I’m afraid. We separated a couple years after you left.”

Char clenched her fists. _ “Fuck.” _

“A lot of things came to a head,” Norman admitted, eyes downcast as to not look at his daughter’s reaction. “We haven’t really spoken in years… I’m sorry, hon.”

Char watched steam start to waft out of the large teapot’s spout, her eyes dark and welling with emotion she wasn’t even able to parse. She thought of every argument, every uncomfortable moment she had to watch between her parents. It was inevitable, and it hurt.

“It’s my fault.”

_ “No,” _ Norman was quick to shut her down, “it absolutely wasn't. This had nothing to do with you-”

“C’mon Dad,  _ I’m not a fucking little kid anymore!” _ Char snapped, and her voice cracked. “I know that me getting hurt ruined everything. I wish you’d at least  _ accept _ that!”

Norman gave her a hurt look, and for a moment they simply stared pointedly at each other. Dad was never the confrontational one; it was always Mom who raised her voice first. Maybe that’s where she got it from. Finally, Char broke eye contact, and slumped back in her seat.

“Whatever. At least she isn’t here to be disappointed in me.”

Norman’s mouth was a grim line, looking over her with concern. “C’mon, Charmander; don’t say things like that. She’d be over the moon if she knew you were back. Hell, you could just call her an-”

_ “Nnnnope.  _ I’m good.” Char curtly interrupted. She already wasn’t looking forward to having to see Mom again. If anything, she thought she’d be happier that she wasn’t in the picture anymore. No more being made to feel like a failure, or a money-sink, or something just… broken.

Her mother didn’t take her illness well. Through those first few years, the most difficult and painful experiences of Char’s life, her mother barely looked at her. It’s like she stopped being herself in her eyes. Well, maybe she was half-right. Char certainly changed, mostly for the worse.

**“Sister.”**

Char was snapped out of a self-loathing lull by Yanna offering her a very large cup of tea. It was more of a bowl in human terms. After a moment of consideration, she went ahead and took it.

Norman held his own cup in both hands, and took a careful sip. “So, it’s nice to see you two still training together. I guess you’re both about to go your separate ways now that you’re home?”

**“I plan to go back to the colony, yes,”** Yanna affirmed.  **“Perhaps not permanently. I’ve grown weary of travelling and fighting, but I would miss Char otherwise.”**

The gym leader gave him a crooked smile. “Glad the two of you worked things out, at least. I hope you kept her out of trouble.”

Yanna snorted, and took a drink to dodge answering that.

Char smiled a bit, herself. There were so many things that she would be better off keeping her father in the dark about. He already worried about her enough; she didn’t need to give him any more gray hairs. Unfortunately, there was definitely still something she was going to have to tell him. Might as well bite the bullet.

“Dad?”

“Mm?” Norman looked up from his cup.

“There’s uh, there’s someone I brought back with me from Kanto. I’d like you to meet him, but I don’t know if you’d…  _ like _ him.”

Her father cocked an eyebrow at her, instantly looking suspicious in a way only a parent can. “How so?”

“Well for one, he’s a sapient,” Char beat around the bush as hard as she fucking could, “but also, he’s… psychic. But y’know, like, a  _ therapy _ psychic. Sort of.”

Norman frowned disapprovingly. “Kazam?”

“ _ Sssort _ of?”

Yanna watched the tension between them rise.  **“Sire, he is a kind man and a fair companion; I trust him around her.”**

Norman seemed surprised by that admission, but was still conflicted as he faced the pleading look in Char’s eyes. She gave him a look that just short of begged him to give this supposed psychic a chance.

“Charlotte, you know it’s not healthy for you to be around those types…”

“He’s not like that, honest!” Char was quick to counter him. “Look, just, let me introduce you; he’s a little weird at first, but he’s super nice, he already knows about my illness and-”

“Alright,  _ alright! _ ” Norman held up his hands in a halting gesture; a smile coming to his face unbidden, just from seeing Char’s eyes light up while talking about her new friend. With a sigh, he relented.

“Okay, fine, just promise me he’s not something that’s going to make your Embrace Syndrome worse.”

Char couldn’t afford to hesitate over that. She gave her father a confident smile. “Of course not. He’s perfectly safe.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: gore/body horror

Nico wouldn’t say he was excited to go back to Indigo Falls. Too many memories there. Some of them were even good, as much as he hated to admit that. The fact that it was one of those sleepy, archaic settlements that hadn’t changed in decades - maybe even centuries - didn’t help. That meant the nostalgia was baked into the walls of the buildings, and in the trees the Kazam had built onto. 

He never fit in with them, both in the figurative and literal, physical sense. He was pretty sure at this point he wouldn’t fit through their doorways. It was that, and the distance he felt from their ways and sense of community that didn’t make them his first place to turn to when he was suddenly free. What made the Adversary want to stay  _ here? _

Nico braced himself for the sheer amount of psychic noise he would have to put up with as he entered the forest. Kazam formed tight-knit communities; their psychic connection with one another made very few things secret, if you didn’t know how to shut it all out. It was overwhelming and claustrophobic, and especially paranoia-inducing to someone like him, with so many skeletons in his closet. Even if he was a more disciplined psychic now, his anxiety never left.

Approaching the outskirts of the community, Nico expected that web of communication to be as busy, loud and disorienting as he remembered it. Instead, he only perceived silence, and an eerily empty village. Clothes strung high up between the dome-shaped treehouses were still out to dry, and many dwellings had open doors and windows. Not even the other resident pokemon of varying sapience seemed to be around. A dreadful feeling sank into the pit of his stomach.

His searching for another psychic mind became more frantic as he rushed through the village, catching wind of a muted presence that he focused on in vain. He feared the worst as it pointed him towards the local clinic, only to find some of the non-Kazam residents crowded around the ground level house; peering in the windows and waiting patiently outside the door. The ones that noticed him stared at the Alakazam as he threw the doors open frantically.

He was met with dead silence, and a domed room full of regular-sized, naturally-born Kazam. They stared pointedly at his intrusion, and he could already feel the hushed psychic gossiping interrupting the silence of their communion. On the other side of the room, a small group of Alakazam around his age paused, and the tiny, elderly Matriarch acknowledged his presence with a flick of her ears. With a scrap of silk draped over her eyes, she only needed to hear him.

_ “Ah,” _ she said, finally.  _ “Nicodemus, please; sit down. You’re just in time.” _

Nico gawked at the scene, noticing the clean surgical tools a couple of the Alakazam were preparing. On the far end of the room, he noticed a sole human; a Joy from the Ranger Union, from her uniform. A medical professional to sit in and observe a medical procedure that wouldn’t be handled by regular doctors. He understood now, looking at the red and painful-looking protrusion in the center of the Matriarch’s forehead. Of all the days for him to intrude, he had to stumble onto this. Her trepanation ceremony.

Nico, feeling uncomfortably on the spot, hesitated. Every stare was judgmental, and every pair of eyes focused on how he didn’t  _ belong here _ . He would have simply blinked away, if an insistent ‘psst!’ and a familiar psychic’s signature didn’t stop him. He was drawn towards a gap in the rows of taken seats that begrudgingly opened up for him.

The Kadabra vixen had sharp eyes and an even sharper, annoyed tone to her telepathy. Nico knew her, of course she’d be here. Daphne was one of the Matriarch’s many grandchildren, and one of the many from that group that got the hell out of dodge as soon as their whiskers grew in.

_ “Nico, what the  _ **_hell_ ** _ are you doing here?” _ The vixen admonished him in their private telepathic exchange. The much larger Alakazam shrank back from the tiny woman’s tone.

_ “That’s not important right now.”  _

The atmosphere started to change the moment he sat down. Left out of their communal exchange, Nico was fascinated by how quiet the crowd was as they patiently watched. He didn’t really associate their chaotic psy-connection with  _ peace.  _

The Matriarch, with her wispy white beard and long, braided whiskers decorated lavishly for the ceremony, had been blindfolded to develop her inner sight in preparation. Her Third Eye was about to open. Nico couldn’t deny that her tumor, though gruesome, was an immense stroke of luck. Alakazam were more at risk for this affliction the older they got, but it was only the ones that developed in that exact location that could herniate through the suture of the skull; presumably allowing them to survive it. If the growth formed anywhere else, he would be attending a funeral instead of a surgery.

Clasping her hands together, the Matriarch had a certain aura of peacefulness as she addressed her community. The sense of acceptance towards one’s own mortality.

_ “For the first time in five hundred years, we will see the next stage of life Myuu has granted us. Rejoice children, grandchildren, peers; this is a step towards a brighter future, and a finer understanding of our place in the world.” _

Nico’s ears flicked as he silently watched, getting increasingly nervous from the intent behind that scalpel. The Alakazam working on her tumor were fairly young; her own children, most likely. They were noticeably nervous over their gravely important role in this, but they carried out the procedure dutifully.

The clone winced in sympathy as he watched his old mentor’s forehead get sliced open. A bright red knot of tissue practically sprang forth from the opening, finally freed from the cramped confines of her skin. Her Third Eye would have eventually killed her without this ritualized surgery. There was a palpable current of disgust and awe towards the sight, as the entire Kazam portion of the village watched with rapt attention. History was being made here.

It was over almost too quickly. Nico wasn’t sure if he was supposed to applaud, or just nod his head in quiet acknowledgment like everyone else. Good… job? Congratulations on the tumor? He felt his former peers enter a deep and grateful moment of silent communion; the web of connection established by their interconnected lives leaving the outsider in the dust. Nico was left to awkwardly watch everyone go silent and still, before snapping back to reality to take their leave.

The more familiar din of psychic communication began anew, with the ceremony over. Only a few lingered to give their blessing. Nico didn’t even recognize some of these faces, even if they shot him knowing glares. As the room emptied out, Daphne stayed behind and sized up the Alakazam.

_ “So. Sabrina said I just missed you when you were freed. Where  _ **_were_ ** _ you all winter?” _

_ “A friend’s place.” _ Nico dodged the question, more intent on waiting for an opportunity to speak to the Matriarch. He wasn’t about to intrude as she spoke to her friends and family. He already felt like he would be kicked out at any second.

Daphne seemed to also be waiting for her turn to talk to her, snapping to attention from some telepathic message he wasn’t privy to. Nico watched her float to her grandmother, kiss the metal rings on the elder’s fingers reverently, and take her leave. She gave Nico a curt nod as she passed by.

When it was just him left lingering in the room, he cautiously approached. The Joy did a once-over on the incision, dabbing a bit of disinfectant on it before giving her the okay. The elder minutely turned her oversized head towards her former pupil.

_ “I didn’t expect you to return to us.”  _ Her telepathy was quiet, almost awed.

Nico tried to straighten his posture in front of her, even though the silk still covered her eyes.  _ “Well, if i knew this was happening sooner, I would have arrived at a more polite time.” _

The old vixen’s head tilted curiously.  _ “What business do you really have here, then?” _

Something about the way she said that hurt, like an accusation. It was simply impossible to convey that maybe, in a different life, he would have gladly witnessed this ceremony with no ulterior motive. 

_ “I’m looking for someone,” _ Nico admitted sheepishly.  _ “Someone you’re harboring. Someone like me.” _

He averted his eyes from the blind stare of the Matriarch. The elderly Kazam pulled the silk from her eyes, and blinked from the sunlight pouring in through the windows. She considered his words before turning towards the opposite side of the room.

_ “Come here, child. It’s alright.” _

Nico didn’t even notice there was someone else sticking to the far corner. They were one with the shadows in their dark, concealing cloak; formless and inconspicuous. A fitting disguise for someone who’d surely stand out more than he did.

The cloaked figure carefully crossed the room. The Alakazam didn’t need to see their eyes to know they were staring at him distrustfully. The Matriarch gave them a fond look.

_ “This is my newest pupil; they came in the night during the previous winter, in need of shelter from human poachers. I assume this is who you’re looking for?” _

The figure pulled the hood from their head, and Nico found a hairless, alien face looking back at him. Unchanged since that night, when the Adversary was freed from a pokeball that persisted for possibly thousands of years. The wide and staring eyes of the Mew clone burned through him, rightfully suspicious.

_ “Yes,” _ Nico answered, when he could gather his nerves once more. The Adversary scowled.

_ “I remember you,” _ their telepathy wavered with an uncertain tone. Nico felt a brief jolt of fear, as he remembered their respective circumstances the night they met. If they hated Giovanni enough to practically  _ unmake _ him, what punishment would they dole out for an ex-cronie?

_ “Ah, yes, and I remember you.” _ Nico stood up abruptly, and found that he was only a few inches taller than the large, bizarre-looking clone.  _ “Could we talk in private?” _

The Adversary glanced towards the Matriarch, who gave them a slight, encouraging nod.  _ “Go on.” _

It was strange, seeing nervousness on a face that Nico previously associated with death and destruction. Stranger yet how they slouched submissively, reminding the Alakazam unpleasantly of himself.

The Mew clone wrapped themself tighter in their cloak.  _ “Let’s get out of the village. Less people around to eavesdrop.” _

_ “Good idea.” _ Nico wasn’t even given a warning before they teleported, and he looked around frantically until he could zero in on their psychic signature, barely a note in the distance by now. Of course they’d simply run off without a word; why did he expect them to have any goddamn manners.

The waterfall that had given the nature reserve its name was unchanged in the decade since Nico last saw it. The old Kazam carvings were still there, in their carefully maintained condition, serving as a permanent reminder of how old the original community was. Nico wasn’t surprised that the Adversary came here. It was a place you just… gravitate to, in a strange way.

The strange clone sat on the outcropping over the water, huddled up in their cloak. They didn’t look at the Alakazam, but he could feel the cautious distrust on their end acknowledging his presence.

_ “You served Giovanni.” _ There was no accusatory tone to their words; simply making an observation.

_ “I  _ **_worked_ ** _ for Giovanni,”  _ Nico automatically corrected, even though he knew better than to kid himself here.

_ “For how long?” _

Nico slouched despondently next to them, keeping a respectful distance.  _ “Ten years.” _

Under their hood, he watched the Adversary’s short, delicate muzzle nod thoughtfully.  _ “Are you glad to be free from him?” _

_ “Well, yes, obviously.” _ Nico fidgeted, pulling out pieces of thin shale from the cliff face they sat on. _ “How’s freedom treating you?” _

The Mew clone did their own form of fidgeting, swaying slightly from side to side, belying some restlessness.  _ “Overwhelming.” _

_ “Yeah,”  _ Nico sighed,  _ “I know how that feels.” _

The Adversary’s hood pulled back slightly, enough for their eerie eyes to peer out at him, the emotion behind them unreadable.  _ “What do you want from me?” _

Nico ran his fingers through his mane, trying to think of a way to word his request in a way that didn’t make it sound ridiculous. Or unreasonable. Sorry you were forced to commit unspeakable acts against the gods... could you do it again, though?

_ “There’s… something that the League wants your help with. They’re trying to stop something dreadful from potentially coming into our world.” _

The Mew clone’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  _ “What would they have me do?” _

_ “It’s hard to explain in a way that makes sense.” _ Nico managed a strained chuckle, feeling the intensity of their suspicious stare weigh on him. “ _ Some years ago, a psy-type opened a black hole while trying to fight Kyogre - you know about Kyogre, right? Anyways, the portal never closed, and only now is something big starting to approach it from the other side. It could be anything from a very pissed off Titan of the Oceans, to an  _ **_extremely_ ** _ pissed off Giratina. They want you to handle whoever it is, as it is your forte.” _

He averted his eyes from the Adversary’s gaze as they slowly wrinkled their brow in confusion.  _ “Look, I get it; you’re free now, you don’t want to be bothered, and you  _ **_definitely_ ** _ don’t want to be doing any more dirty work for humans. But, consider this: wouldn’t you rather use your powers for good, after everything that’s happened?” _

His pitch sounded better in his head. The Adversary raised a hairless eyebrow quizzically for a moment, and he could feel the prying feeling of their read on him. Looking for lies, trying to see what he was actually saying. He allowed it, if only for the sake of transparency. After a thankfully brief sift through his thoughts, they squinted distrustfully.

_ “Hmm…. No.” _

And with that, the Adversary simply teleported away from him. Nico processed their sudden disappearance for a second before hissing a curse towards the clone.

* * *

The sudden change in temperature was refreshing, going from the nice warm sun to the dark and cool cave. The Adversary pointed to a generator, and turned it on. The lights flickered on in the cavern, where they had haphazardly strung the wires around stalactites and attached light bulbs where they could. The clone’s growing hoard was illuminated in all its messy glory; clotheslines packed with various clothes, piles of shoes they couldn’t wear, stacks of books on furniture they kept for the necessity of keeping things off the bare ground.

Nico immediately banged a foot on an overstuffed pile of junk after teleporting in, and swore. The Adversary simply gave him a disapproving look, but made no move to make him leave.

The Alakazam looked around the mess incredulously. Frames with generic placeholder pictures in them were used as actual decoration. A meticulous collection of different candy wrappers was pinned to a corkboard. Discarded electronics took up a corner, in varying states of disassembly.  _ “Damn, you really live like this, huh?” _

_ “Yes?” _ The Adversary shrugged.  _ “I always wanted material possessions, and now I can obtain them.” _

_ “Where’d you get all this… all these material possessions, anyways?” _

The strange clone smiled very slightly. _ “Stole them.” _

_ “Ah,” _ Nico looked around at the extensive hoard, still trying and failing to find a pattern in the chaos.  _ “You know, humans tend to have this thing called currency where-” _

_ “- Yes, I know what  _ **_currency_ ** _ is.” _ The Adversary rolled their eyes like a child being told off.  _ “It’s just something humans made up, so why should I care about it?” _

_ “... Fair.” _

The Adversary had to fly over a wall of collected junk that formed a ring around their bed; a mattress that was probably the cleanest part of the cavern. Nico followed, more to keep from getting lost than to chase after them. He couldn’t let himself be distracted; he had to at least try to convince them. There had to be something to use as leverage.

_ “You know, the League will definitely reward you with more stuff if you help them.” _ Nico offered, unsubtly.  _ “I’m sure they can give you many more material possessions, maybe enough to warrant an extra cave.” _

_ “Yes, I’m sure.” _ There was a sarcastic, if not bemused inflection in their ever-shifting tone of voice. After taking some excess, accumulated garments off of an overtaxed coat rack to make room, they shrugged off their cloak.

Nico briefly stared at the simple sundress they revealed underneath it, before averting his eyes, suddenly embarrassed. His reaction didn’t go unnoticed by the other clone.

_ “What?” _

_ “Sorry, I just,” _ Nico gestured vaguely at them.  _ “My apologies, I didn’t realize you were a woman.” _

The Adversary tilted their head in confusion.  _ “You think I’m a what?” _

Bristling, Nico tried to backpedal.  _ “I… nevermind. I shouldn’t assume your identity.” _

_ “I would say I'm in between identities right now,” _ the Adversary mused while picking through a collection of hats. They compared a few to their dress, trying to find something that matched.  _ “In between names, in between genders, in between lives…. I wasn’t allowed things like that before. I was not a person, I was a tool.” _

Nico nodded grimly.  _ “Been there.” _

_ “No, you have not.” _ The chilly look the clone gave him was only slightly nullified from being under flower-decorated sunhat.  _ “I read you the moment you walked into the village. You have a name, a job, a place, a life. You’ve known love. You’ve known yourself. I knew a cage, and I knew destruction. Do not compare yourself to me.” _

There was bitterness in their eyes, burning into the Alakazam. Nico subconsciously stepped back.  _ “Sorry. You’re right. No need to get worked up about it, now.” _

That was probably the wrong thing to say, owing to how the piles of hoarded junk around him started to tremble. The Adversary gave him a spiteful look, paused to breathe, and centered themself. Disaster was averted.

_ “I will not let myself be used anymore. You of all people should understand that.” _

_ “I don’t want that either,” _ Nico lowered his ears and bowed his head plaintively.  _ “Might I put this another way? If you don’t comply with the League, they’re just going to bother the  _ **_other_ ** _ Mewtwo for this task instead.” _

Recognition flashed in the Adversary’s eyes, and they frowned. Nico gave them a sardonic smirk.

_ “Yeah, I thought you wouldn’t like that, either. There’s a lot of… complicated  _ **_baggage_ ** _ to this problem, and like it or not, we’re  _ **_both_ ** _ involved in it.” _

For a moment, the Adversary’s face briefly scrunched up in distaste, tail flicking restlessly. They gave him a resentful glower. He was  _ disturbing _ them, in their moment of freedom; trying to break it gently to them that people still sought them out for their power. The only thing they were good for, in humanity’s eyes.

The Adversary could have killed him in any number of ways and wouldn’t even have a mess to clean up, if they so wanted. He was lucky they just crossed their arms, and turned their nose up at him.  _ “You can’t make me do anything.” _

Nico shrugged, having already accepted this would be their reaction in the first place.  _ “I know that. I’m not going to force you.” _

_ “Why not?” _ The Mew clone’s bright eyes widened, as if they didn’t expect such a toothless concession.

_ “Well, I’m not stupid, for one. I’d like to keep all my atoms in place, thank you.” _

They narrowed their eyes again, but this time they took on a more predatory glare.  _ “So you’re just scared of me, like everybody else? I thought they sent you because you’d put up a  _ **_fight_ ** _.” _

Nico shrank back from the look like he was watching an Arbok rear back to strike.  _ “Fighting you is the last thing on my mind, trust me.” _

_ “Why did they send you, then?” _

_ “I believe it was nepotism, ma’am - er, mx. They assumed I’d be able to appeal to you, as someone who was also in service to Giovanni. So, you know that I don’t  _ **_want_ ** _ to have you end up in the same sort of situation we just got out of.” _

Nico tried to give them an earnest look. The Adversary sniffed, flicked the tip of their tail coyly, and simply turned away from him.

_ “I already have travelling plans, so... no.” _

They started to stroll casually up their mountain of material possessions, not caring if any of the junk broke underfoot or tumbled over the side of the pile. Nico followed, though at a safe distance.  _ “Travelling plans? To where?” _

_ “Alola,”  _ they replied nonchalantly. The clone reached the top of the pile and slid down on a stolen stop sign, completely in their element among the collected chaos. Nico blinked dumbfoundedly at their answer.

_ “What could you possibly need in Alola?” _

_ “None of your business.” _

_ “Of course,” _ Nico sighed, and wrung his hands before something struck him. 

_ “You know… Alola is on the way to Hoenn. Maybe we could help each other out.” _

The Adversary, in the middle of draping handfuls of stolen jewelry on their person, gave him another distrustful scowl.  _ “I don’t think we could.” _

Nico held up an interrupting finger.  _ “Consider this, then: perhaps I’m not engineered for raw power like you were, but I know I have more worldly experience than you. And I can tell you are in need of worldly experience; something you are not going to get while in this cave, with only Kazam isolationists to interact with.” _

The Adversary sneered in offense, and their growing temper started small avalanches in the piles of pilfered junk.  _ “Excuse me?! I don’t need your help at all! I’m perfectly fine by myself!” _

_ “Are you?” _ Nico gestured dramatically at the mess around them.  _ “Do you even know what half of this stuff is for? Do you have any idea of how you’re going to get to Alola, either? That’s halfway across the ocean, you won’t be able to feasibly fly over there. _ ”

Despite the growing tremor beneath their feet, the Adversary looked particularly on the spot.  _ “What makes you so sure  _ **_you_ ** _ know?” _

Nico was too deep in this now to let himself be cowed by their threatening display of power. He mustered up his last vestiges of confidence and puffed out his chest. Hopefully the shaggy mantle of his mane would mask how narrow it actually was. 

_ “I was Giovanni’s prized agent for nearly a decade; I have experience living on the sidelines of humanity, and the many secrets that lie within. If freedom seems overwhelming now, just wait until you get out there in the world. I should know,”  _ Nico let out the breath he was holding, and deflated back into the slouching, lanky mess he really was. _ “...I’m overwhelmed too. But at least I know how to put jewelry on right.” _

The Adversary looked down at how they attempted to wrap necklace chains around their tail; threaded with rings that didn’t fit their fingers in an effort to still possess them. They turned noticeably pink, and gave him a hurt look.

_ “I’m just… trying my best here, alright? I don’t care if I do things wrong. I’m just happy to be able to do things at all.” _

_ “I’m trying, too.” _ Nico sighed, and gave them a bittersweet smile.  _ “And I really don’t want to do this Hoenn business either, but my hands are tied. If you don’t step in, they’ll just hassle Charlotte; and that means hassling Mewtwo, as well. I don’t think either of us want that.” _

Mentioning Mewtwo was the clincher; the Adversary’s expression softened at his mention, and they averted their eyes to stare at the floor, conflicted. Nico took the chance, and held out a hand to seal the deal.

_ “I promise you’ll be back to finishing your Dragonite’s hoard in no time.” _

The Adversary looked at the hand, confused, and hesitated on shaking. They pulled back their own hand daintily.

_ “... I’ll think about it.” _

Nico tried to stifle his groan.  _ “How long is thinking about it going to take? We don’t have much ti-” _

He couldn’t even finish before the breath was seized from his lungs. The sudden teleportation was less of a shock to his system than it would have been for a human, but the disorientation was still unpleasant. Nico staggered backwards, feeling grass underneath his feet and the sun beating down on him. He was outside again, with no sign of the Adversary nor the cave he followed them to. Looks like their conversation was over.

_ “... Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” _

* * *

Nico didn’t stop being a stranger to these people, no matter how familiar they were with him. They didn’t object to him begrudgingly joining the communal feast they prepared in celebration of their elder’s trepanation; likely just tolerating him because of his ties to the Matriarch. That’s how it always was. Pretending he had worth through association with people that actually belonged where they were.

He tried sitting at the very edge of the clearing that made up the village center, with twice the amount of food to compensate for how small the portions were. He soon attracted a handful of the older kitts in the community; the molting, scruffy-muzzled not-quite-Kadabras, who tried to hide in the trees as they gawked at him. They weren’t subtle; he could hear their thoughts. They wondered between each other if they would grow to his size, and expressed confusion and suspicion over his short whiskers. Nico had half a mind to just blink out of here. Sulk in the woods, maybe. He was clearly bothering them through his continued existence.

The kitts scattered before he could act, and looking up he could see why. Daphne, as part of the Matriarch’s family, had a certain amount of authority about her. The vixen had a couple of kebabs in her hand, and casually took a seat next to Nico.

_ “Sorry I was so short with you, back there.” _ The hint of regret in Daphne’s thoughts was sincere, at least.  _ “You were just unexpected. She did appreciate that you were there to witness her, you know.” _

Nico’s ears flicked back, belying his embarrassment.  _ “I just hope I didn’t commit some grave Kazam insult I didn’t know about.” _

_ “Well, at least you arrived just in time.” _ Daphne delicately bit off a chunk of cooked squash from one of the skewers. The whole process of eating with grown-out Kazam whiskers was something Nico didn’t miss, at least.

The Alakazam sniffed dismissively.  _ “I’m sure the rest of the village has a different opinion.” _

_ “Oh, don’t worry about them,” _ the vixen reassured, though there was still an underlying admonishment to her tone. He wished it was that simple.

At his size, Nico ate the meat off of his own kebabs two at a time. At least the food here was still as good as he remembered. _ “So, uh, you ever see that ‘new student’ around here?” _

To his surprise, Daphne perked up at the mention.  _ “Oh, you mean ‘the Guest’? They keep to themself, mostly; I’m sure you understand why. I was actually visiting when they wandered in.” _

_ “Really? Small world.” _

The Kadabra nodded knowingly, chewing.  _ “I was snowed in, and Sabrina said something suddenly came up, so I was prepared to just wait it out here, you know? Then the whole village starts panicking over something strange entering the area. They couldn’t parse the signature, but I can feel someone struggling with removing an inhibitor a mile away.” _

She sighed quietly, eyes downcast as the unpleasant parts of the memory came back to her.  _ “By the time I got over there, they ripped it out themselves. I had to convince them to go back with me for treatment; the only reason they listened to me was because I told them I worked on the other Mewtwo… lucky coincidence, don’t you think?” _

Nico grumbled, and focused on his food.  _ “There are no coincidences.” _

_ “They’re a bit... eccentric, but they seem as good-natured as Two was. I told him about them when I got back home, and he and Charlotte unload this bizarre story of how this all came to be… you guys really do live some interesting lives, don’t you?” _

_ “Yeah. Wouldn’t recommend it, myself.” _

Daphne gave the Alakazam a small smile; the relief at seeing him safe still fresh on her mind, felt through their connection. Nico didn’t like being reminded just how many people were waiting for him to escape Giovanni, as if that was something he was ever strong enough to do. He couldn’t even kill the bastard himself. Then again, he didn’t deserve that as much as the Adversary did.

The snapping of twigs made both Kazam flinch, and Nico was more surprised to see the Adversary in question than Daphne was.  _ Speak of the Gengar _ , and all that. He was left wondering how they managed to hide the sheer magnitude of their psychic presence, as the other clone timidly stalked towards the vixen.

_ “Daphne, could you…?” _ They trailed off nervously, carefully pointing towards the bustling feast not far away. 

The Kadabra snapped into action. _ “Oh, certainly, dear - hold on.” _

She blinked out of sight, and left the two of them awkwardly alone. When Nico tried to look back at the strange clone, they shyly looked away. Well, he could relate.

_ “Don’t like crowds either, huh?” _

The Adversary gazed longingly at the festivities.  _ “I wish I did.” _

They really did look dressed up for a party they knew they had no business going to. In the end, just considering the daunting concept of socializing left them frozen in the bushes. Daphne teleported back with a few extra skewers, and offered them to the clone, patiently letting them hesitate from their nerves before snatching them like they’d never get a chance to eat again.

Daphne smiled and shook her head at how the Adversary crouched on the ground, ravenously ripping meat off of their kebabs in an animalistic manner.  _ “This is the strangest rehabilitation case I’ve ever had.” _

They were finished almost as soon as they started, and handed the vixen a few stripped skewers. They had their wide, owlish eyes on Nico, staring at him suspiciously. Probably wondering why he was even still here. Before he could say anything himself, they quickly interrupted him with their own question.

_ “If I go with you, will you help me find the Aether Foundation?” _

The Alakazam’s ears flicked. That name rang a bell, and he paused to quickly find exactly what he associated it with. Cyrus, and his maddened rambling about other universes… which didn’t even end up being the case.  _ “Is that what your travelling plans are for?” _

The Adversary nodded so vigorously their hat became askew.  _ “It’s very important. There are things I need to make right.” _

Nico narrowed his eyes.  _ “Feeling a little post-Giovanni remorse, are we?” _

The other clone’s expression scrunched back up into contempt.  _ “Don’t act like you haven’t done things you regret.” _

_ “I can assure you, I’m nothing  _ **_but_ ** _ regret by now.” _

They both glared at each other for a moment, like two Meowth having a stand-off over a sleeping spot, before the Adversary seemed to relent. They sighed, and adjusted their sunhat to regain composure.  _ “Okay fine; let’s go, then.” _

_ “Wait, like right n-” _ They were already gone, and Nico was speaking to thin air. Daphne, as witness to their conversation, just chuckled around a mouthful of kebab.

_ “Yeah, they do that a lot. I don’t think they know what ‘manners’ are... or any social conventions, honestly.” _

Nico sighed wearily.  _ “Great.” _


	4. Chapter 4

Mewtwo, frankly, would have preferred to stay outside. He was having a good time outside, taking in all the new sights and enjoying a lovely spring morning in Hoenn, the first of hopefully many. Then Char poked her head out of a window in the back of the gym building, and mentally hailed him.

 _“Just be yourself. He’ll like you after he gets to know you, I promise,”_ Char telepathically soothed, helping him squeeze through the window. _“Just remember: as far as he knows, I’m your trainer.”_

Mewtwo couldn’t even enjoy how she gave him the kind of delicate, teasing touch down his spine that made him shiver. _“How am I supposed to be myself if I have to lie to him about who I am to you?”_

Char sighed, and he felt her stress as his own. He was complicating things in a way he just didn’t quite understand. _“Honey, it’s - it’s not that simple, alright?”_

The affectionate stroke down his back turned into a more insistent push, and he was walked out of the dark backroom and into the office.

The man in the red and white tracksuit looked for all the world like an older, masculine version of Char. When his eyes fell on the clone, they went wide with equal parts shock and fear; Mewtwo was more of a monster to him than he had been to anybody else in months, in that moment. He almost forgot what that felt like.

Char placed a chaste hand on the psychic’s shoulder. “Dad, this is Mewtwo. He’s my friend.”

Slowly, Char’s father got to his feet, and cautiously got closer, going between gawking at Mewtwo, and giving Char beside him a worried look. The clone could read the most prominent, fearful thoughts in the man’s mind. He was comparing him to _the plant_.

Mewtwo swallowed the uneasy feeling that gave him, and held out a hand to shake. _“Um, Char told me a lot about you. It’s good to finally meet you, sir.”_

The man blinked at the telepathy going through his head, but it didn’t seem to put him at ease at all. All he could think of was empty, pink eyes and a smile that never changed. Wispy, long petals bruising and tattering as they kept brushing along the ground. The smell of roses. Mewtwo was spared the brunt of Char’s memories of the Gardevoir; she had many of them taken out psychically long ago, when the despair the psy-parasite’s absence instilled in her was unbearable. Because of that, it made the horror of what it did feel more in the past to her than it was to others. The last time her father saw her, Char was at her sickest.

Tentatively, the man took Mewtwo’s hand and gave it the weakest of shakes. Two was pretty sure that was supposed to be some kind of Hariyama insult. “Norman Jessop. It’s ah, nice to meet you; pardon my Kalosian but… what in the damn hell _are_ you, exactly?”

Mewtwo snorted with a brief chuckle. _“I don’t think I know how to answer that. I’m more of an engineered hybrid of some kind? It’s complicated.”_

Norman’s face softened from his lighthearted tone. He gave his daughter a confused glance, and shook his head; resigning himself to the absurdity of the situation. He went back to his well-worn favored seat, and gestured for them to join him. Yanna, at his spot, quietly prepared an appropriately sized cup of tea for the clone.

The scarred but gentle-faced man let out a small sigh, before looking his daughter in the eye. “Well Charmander, you got a helluva lot of explaining to do.”

Mewtwo stifled a giggle. _“‘Charmander’?”_

“It’s a _dad thing_...” Char looked away to hide her embarrassment, and tried to get her story together.

“Well, I told you I was training on commission. He’s - well, he _was_ my contract. Some engineered super-psychic or whatever. I couldn’t take the way they were treating him, so I busted him out my damn self.”

Mewtwo couldn’t help but give her a fond look. _“She saved me, sir. You have no idea how much it means to me to be free.”_

Norman’s expression was stony and thoughtful; a mirror image of Char and her characteristic hardened stare. Mewtwo would periodically give a glancing read of the man’s mind, and found him distrustworthy of his daughter in particular. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, briefly looking the psychic in the eye.

“So, are you a free sapient, or is she training you?”

Mewtwo hesitated, and Char promptly stepped in for him. “It’s uh, sort of a training partnership, yeah; I mean, not that he’s gym-legal or nothin’, but we look out for each other.”

Char had a confident little smile on her face. Sitting on the sidelines and watching the scene unfold, Yanna raised an incredulous eyebrow at her.

Norman’s mouth was a hard, disapproving line. He seemed to mull over the decision to get to his feet, only doing so when he felt there was no other option. “Charlotte, backroom. _Now_.”

Char paled considerably, and gave Mewtwo a final look to gather the rest of her confidence. Fear was in her eyes, but not the fear of a threat that he was used to seeing. She could fight anything that so much as looked at the clone the wrong way, but she couldn’t exactly fight her father. Her vulnerability was a sour note ringing through their connection.

Mewtwo watched her sluggishly hobble a dead man’s walk to the backroom, his heart sinking. This was his fault, his very existence was causing her strain. Maybe he really was hurting her, invisibly; they didn’t exactly know what his own power would do to her in the long term. Right now, on the short term, he was just adding to her family drama.

He only knew bits and pieces that she’d tell him, or that he’d pick up through glimpses of shared memories. Did all children have a strained relationship with their parents? With Char as his main perspective, she didn’t paint a very favorable picture.

He could hear them, vaguely; both in how father and daughter shared a tone of voice that carried, and his connection to Char. He felt the old habits falling in, the old attitudes and learned behavior of a Charlotte he didn’t know. Char was fighting to be herself, in a way he had never picked up on before. Mewtwo shared the sweaty palmed, queasy anticipation she did, and he didn’t even know what she was waiting for.

In the other room, Norman’s scowl held years of unresolved concern and disappointment. “The two of you aren’t… _connected_ at all, are you?”

Mewtwo felt Char’s stomach flip. The woman blushed, looking particularly vulnerable.

“Well I mean, it’s more complicated than that, Dad; you can’t _not_ connect with a psychic’s mind, even when they’re just talking-”

“You _know_ what I mean.” Norman’s correction was firm. Mewtwo didn’t know what he meant, but he felt Char grow cold all the same.

“He’s not like that,” she stubbornly insisted, “he’s not hurting me when we connect.”

“Honey, you know what we said about psychics. I _know_ you want it back in your head-”

“He is _not_ the same as Venus.”

Mewtwo, sitting on the couch, shivered feverishly. Yanna gave him a concerned look, and placidly took the clone’s cup before his shaking hands could spill it.

Char, facing her father alone, felt a pang of regret bringing _it_ up. Norman was nothing if not a contributor to her stubbornness, matching the look in her eyes. Mewtwo could vaguely feel his pang of sadness at having to put on such an act, having to put his foot down and talk her down from another of these difficult moments. “Charlotte, you know the doctors said-”

“-I _know_ what the doctors said, Dad -”

“- the doctors that you haven’t been to in fifteen years? Arceus, Charlotte; have you even been getting treatment in Kanto? How do you know if this thing isn’t rotting your brain out all over again?”

_“Don’t you DARE call him a thing!”_

The pokemon in the other room looked up towards the muffled shout, their attention snapping towards the backroom door. Mewtwo let out a ragged sigh, and wiped his wet eyes. It was at that point that Yanna got to his feet.

**“This isn’t our conversation anymore. Let’s go.”**

_“Are you sure we should leave her…?”_ Mewtwo timidly stood, trembling and chilled from the compounding anxiety. The Hariyama just shook his head.

**“She’ll know where we’re going.”**

One more awkward window escape later, Mewtwo flew to catch up to his companion as he took a series of back paths with confidence. Behind the surrounding storefronts, it felt more barren than the modest main street the front of the gym faced. Yanna seemed familiar with this route, wherever it was taking them.

 _“So where are we going?”_ Mewtwo floated down beside the Hariyama, touching down on the unmaintained pavement.

 **“Outside of town, where it’s quiet.”** Yanna seemed almost distracted, for once, by the changes to the town he was once so familiar with. Mewtwo was slightly more concerned with staying out of sight of people. That seemed to be why they opted to take an alleyway to begin with.

Down on the other end of narrow gaps between buildings, Mewtwo wistfully glimpsed the normal lives people were living, just out of reach. The fact that there were more than a few pokemon living similarly independent lives made his situation feel more ironic than usual.

_“It must be nice being around your people again, huh?”_

Yanna gave his own glance between the buildings, watching other Hariyama go about their lives around human peers. Mewtwo sensed him pushing away the feeling of disconnect that crept up on the fighter. **“If nothing else, it’s nice to fit through doorways again.”**

He was counting the alleys that lead into the main street, as to remember where he was compared to the memories he held. Soon he stopped the clone abruptly, and went around to the front of a building, alone. A few minutes later, he came out with a veritable crate of takeout; a note of triumph on his face greater than any time Mewtwo had seen him hunt live dinner. Unsurprisingly, Hoenn restaurants served both human and fighter-sized portions.

The backways led into forest more abruptly than Mewtwo imagined, as if nature was threatening to take back the far edges of Petalburg if left unchecked. It was from there that the leap from civilization to the middle of nowhere felt instant. Yanna led him down a Deerling trail through the tall grass, and before he knew it, he was looking out at the ocean again. Tidepools and wet, eroded bedrock made a liminal space between sea and land.

Yanna’s expression softened with nostalgia, however briefly. **“We trained her serpent here, when we were children. Char would not rest until she saw the legend of the Karp Prince come true herself.”**

Setting up on sunbleached rocks out of reach of the tide, Mewtwo and Yanna opened the box to a puff of steam so spicy Mewtwo feared his whiskers would burn off. In between large bowls of stir-fry and meat, Yanna plucked out a small carton of rice to give to his friend. **“I got you their mellowest possible dish. It’s meant for infants.”**

 _“... Thanks.”_ Mewtwo still cracked a small smile, despite himself.

And with that, they spent a while eating in silence. It suited Mewtwo just fine, being someone who already heard other’s minds keenly. He was getting better at ignoring his brain’s automatic honing in on the presence of others, for his own sanity. Yanna was notoriously hard to read, by sheer force of will. Mewtwo understood why now, knowing the fighter’s history with psy-types started long before they met.

Mewtwo picked through his rice, feeling uneasy the longer he kept these questions to himself.

 _“I didn’t make things…_ **_worse_ ** _, did I?”_

Yanna considered his question for a long time, looking out over the surf-damp shale. **“There was no way to meet him on better terms. She should have taken a slower pace, but as always, she rushed a delicate matter.”**

He gave the psychic a sideways glance. **“It must be difficult, forever knowing the true opinions of those you meet; looking into their eyes and seeing their fear and hatred.”**

 _“It certainly doesn’t get any better.”_ Mewtwo huffed, and focused on his food. He picked out grains of rice individually to nibble on, his appetite overshadowed by his guilt.

**“His issues are not your burden to bear. If he associates you with an unfeeling monster like the plant, that’s his problem.”**

_“It’s not that simple,”_ Mewtwo frowned, _“What if I ruin her chances of reconciling with him, just by virtue of existing?”_

Yanna gave him a hardened look. **“Family that abandons their most vulnerable children does not deserve reconciliation.”**

The clone blinked at the heavy connotations behind the Hariyama’s words. _“You really think that?”_

Yanna let out a low grumble of year’s old frustration, setting a half-empty take-out carton aside. **“Listen, Two: there is no greater pride for a Hariyama than the strong ties of their clan. My family thought nothing of shunning me for staying by the side of my sister-in-arms. They only saw her sickness, and not the path that brought her to it.”**

Mewtwo’s ears drew back as he timidly nodded. _“So you chose to care for her.”_

Above them, the distant cries of Wingull could be barely heard over the pleasant sound of the surf wicking against bedrock. Yanna breathed in the salty air deeply before giving him an affirming nod. **“I chose to continue treating her like her own person.”**

The breeze whipped over the rocky shore, cool and pleasant. Mewtwo’s ears were whipped around by the wind as they picked up a familiar voice between the crash of the waves. He turned to see Char carefully navigating the slick, rocky shoreline. Her eyes were a little puffier, and her thoughts a little more unraveled, but there was clear relief on her face for being to find them.

“Aw man, you got breakfast without me?”

Without missing a beat, Yanna fished out a pair of human-sized chopsticks out of the box, and handed her the rest of his meal. Mewtwo looked in the direction she came from with concern.

_“So, what did he say?”_

“He wants me to renew my League card and get recognized for championship benefits, insurance n’ such.” Char sounded almost casual around a mouthful of food. Her tone made Mewtwo wonder if their argument was ever actually resolved.

_“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”_

**“It’s good, actually,”** Yanna noted, his ears perking up in interest. **“Now that you’re an adult, they’ll have to grant you that championship prize.”**

“Shit, you’re right.” Char paused from wolfing down on stir-fry to hold up a revelatory finger. “I’m not a little kid and I’m not a brain-dead teenager anymore. Also, me retiring will make that severance go through faster.”

Mewtwo watched the two of them, feeling slightly left behind in the conversation. The bureaucracy of the League and all the complicated laws behind trainership went right over his head sometimes. Yanna still used his own, enormous chopsticks to pick through the takeout Char had commandeered. **“Sounds simple enough.”**

“Ehh, they’ll find some was to fuck us. They always do.” Char’s gaze briefly grew distant as she looked out over the shoreline, and towards the nearby outskirts of Petalburg. “Dad says I can crash in the guest room at his place for the moment, but Two’s on the couch.”

**“What happened to returning to the ranch?”**

Char’s expression darkened, her voice lowering into a quiet, defeated mumble. “He had to sell it a few years back. Couldn’t keep up the commute. On the bright side, the Professor owns it now; it’s not like it’s in bad hands, I guess.”

Mewtwo couldn’t stand to see the nostalgic sadness in her eyes, so he opted to change the subject. _“So, uh, does your dad actually… approve? Of me?”_

For a split second, it almost looked as though Char completely forgot about his stake in this. “Oh yeah, uh, dad wants to talk to you. One on one.”

Mewtwo’s tail thumped against the rocks in frustration. _“Seriously? Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?!”_

“I was hungry.” His lover shrugged vaguely, as she was wont to do, brandishing the takeout carton a little for emphasis.

* * *

Steeling himself, Mewtwo hesitated before going through the window again, and not just because he was a little too big for it. He had let his guard down these past few months. He went soft from the unconditional love and respect Char and her friends had given him. He was still naive, expecting to be taken in so readily by the rest of her family.

Norman was in his office still, taking time to process his reunion alone before getting back to work. Mewtwo covertly read his thoughts before he made his presence known. The man's thoughts were scattered still, overwhelmed with worries, new and old; Mewtwo was intruding on this man's life, and threatening to turn it upside down. He was going to inspire nightmares the veteran gym leader hadn't had in years. Shaking the doubt out of his head, the clone approached.

_"You wanted to speak to me, sir?"_

Norman nearly jumped out of his chair, a small framed picture falling out of his hand to clatter onto the desk. The scarred man stared the psychic down, his hackles thoroughly raised.

"That I did," he gruffly answered, eyes locked on the clone. "Charlotte made it clear you aren't leavin' anytime soon. Now, it ain't any of my business if she trains psy-types again, but I'd prefer to know exactly what she's dealing with here."

 _"Not 'what',_ **_whom_ ** _."_ Mewtwo firmly corrected. _"And I am not anything that can compare to another psychic, so perhaps your fears are not unfounded, but I would appreciate being given the benefit of the doubt. I would never hurt her like that Gardevoir hurt her."_

"And that's all well and good, but how do you _know?"_ Norman gave him a hard stare. "Do you know what that thing did, exactly? This ain't some regular mind control, or anything of the sort. It wasn't some kazam actin’ out while its whiskers grew in. That thing takes over your brain on a chemical level, shuts down your higher functions, makes sure it’ll never work right on its own again. You know how lucky she is to be alive right now?"

Mewtwo's posture was stiff and unyielding. He wasn't going to be shamed by something that he had no part in. _"I'm well aware of her sickness, sir."_

"I lost my little girl that day," Norman sighed as he straightened the picture on the desk. Mewtwo noticed that it was of a bright-eyed, curly haired child and a pretty, well-dressed woman about Char's age. "Be glad you won't ever know what that feels like."

 _"You didn't lose her,"_ Mewtwo's tail began to flick with a steadily growing ire, _"she's still here, she's still your daughter, and she needs your help."_

It looked like that struck a nerve, with the way the gym leader stared down the clone.

“She put you up to this, spoon-bender?”

 _“This isn’t about her anymore.”_ Mewtwo frowned, feeling the increasing anxiety on the man’s end of the connection keenly. He felt like a prey animal to the psychic, but surely Mewtwo wasn’t _meant_ to be a predator. _“I don’t ask of you to put your trust in me; I only ask that you treat me as any other equal, and not like ‘the plant’. I didn’t go through what I did, and travel hundreds of miles to get here only to be objectified by a man in a tacky tracksuit.”_

The tension was drawn as tight as a bowstring between them as the two men gave each other a scrutinizing glare. Mewtwo had enough experience with the death glare Char could pull off; this man was the source of that look in her eyes, though his didn’t have the dire feeling behind it. Norman was a trainer, with every bit of the presence it demanded, but he didn’t have the heart to be cruel deep down. Unlike his daughter.

Norman let out a deep exhale through his crooked nose, and got to his feet. The man had a good few inches on the clone, looking down at him with a familiarly stony expression.

“I see she’s rubbed off on you a bit. You’ve been training with her a while, eh?”

Mewtwo pointedly refused to break eye contact, as uncomfortable as it could be. _“About a year, sir.”_

“You know she takes those medications because her brain don’t produce those sorts of chemicals anymore, yeah?”

_“She’s explained them to me, yes.”_

“You ever see it?” Norman raised an eyebrow at him. “Venus, I mean. In her head.”

 _No,_ Mewtwo would have earnestly answered. Venus wasn’t _in there_ anymore, thanks to previous tampering by a certain fellow mad science experiment. Knowing that would spark a whole new argument, Mewtwo simply gave him a half truth. _“I have, sir.”_

He had seen it before, in pictures. And in the memories of those around Char. He could see it right now even, still on Norman’s thoughts all these years. A chilling, unnatural face he couldn’t forget.

Norman nodded grimly, looking away to gaze distantly towards the row of trophies on the wall. His posture had relaxed, but his face stayed the same.

“She’s going to be getting a checkup from the League, soon. If it turns out she’s gotten any worse-”

 _“If her condition has worsened, I will leave.”_ Mewtwo was quick to answer, though regret immediately curdled within him at the weight behind those words. Norman looked as surprised as the clone felt.

“That would be the responsible thing to do.” The gym leader affirmed, paused, and looked conflicted before holding out a hand. “You two care for each other quite a bit, huh? She always worked well with you ‘class A’s’.”

So that was it? That was all it took? Mewtwo timidly took the hand, and they shared a shake firmer than the one they met with. The clone felt himself go pink as he tried to word his relationship in a way that came off as platonic as possible.

_“O-of course I do. I wouldn’t be here without her; I owe her everything.”_

Norman gave him an approving nod; less like a trainer appraising a pokemon, and more like a father approving of the company his daughter kept.

* * *

The Adversary, ever restless, ever understimulated, would change into a new outfit they pilfered at least three times a day. The initial bit of joy from exercising their free will and personhood had given them diminishing returns. It didn’t matter if they liked what they had or not; it wasn’t _enough._ None of this was enough. None of it fixed anything, and there were so, so many things broken.

The full length mirror they grabbed was the tenth one, with its predecessors' shattered remains still littering the floor around it. The Adversary had been trying to save them; they had carefully cut out and taped a much nicer, much prettier face they found in one of those Floppy Books Filled With Beautiful Women (Sometimes Naked) strategically where the problem lied, and so far that worked. It looked _off,_ but it worked. The clone tried not to think about the face behind the photograph, and focused on the dress.

Dresses were great, possibly the best out of all the things they tried to wear. In addition to being what the clone now understood as _pretty_ , they fit better than pants by a long shot. They also hid the misshapen, malformed body underneath as well, and for just a little bit the clone could pretend they were somebody else. Literally anybody else.

Hats were only second to the dresses; taking some attention away from their face, and everything else attached to it. They could dip the brim down over their face, and instantly stop being themself. _Perfection._ Would that keep the mirror intact? ... _Sometimes._

The clone admired the broad sunhat, and the modest dress that covered them acceptably, and felt the briefest spark of that indescribable emotion. Better than freedom, better than comfort, better than the warmth of kindness; that split second of feeling complete was worth every shock, or lash, or needle. But as always, that beacon of euphoria was just out of reach. And in an instant, it was gone again.

 _Look at you_ . You look ridiculous. Just a monster wearing a dress, pretending it's a person. The clone swallowed the knot in their throat. What were they thinking? Who were they kidding? They could paste a photograph on the mirror, but it didn’t change reality, it didn’t change _them._ Knowing full well what would happen next, they ripped the face off of the glass, and faced themself.

Their breathing turned ragged and stressed as they stared into their own eyes, reminding themself that no matter what they would do, they would still be _this._ Tall, mutated, viscerally repulsive. Not small, or cute, and certainly not _pretty._ A freakshow, a mad scientist’s reject; a grotesque that Giovanni would bring out to shock and impress his peers, and tear into his enemies. The monster staring back at them wore their clothes, and blinked back their tears, but was it them? Why didn’t it _feel_ like them? They accepted their nature, they gave into Giovanni’s will, they became a monster and a weapon, and they still couldn’t just… shut that part off. They couldn’t stop feeling that sense of wrongness. Was it just their existence? Were they always going to be like this?

The mirror cracked, then exploded into a shower of glass and pieces of frame. The Adversary screamed with half-finished vocal chords, broke a few more things in their cave, and rode out the frenzy until their head hurt and their heart felt like it jammed itself into their neck cord, hammering away. Defeated, they welcomed the void that consumed them with open arms. The apathy, the numbness that came afterwards. There was everything, then there was too much, and now there was nothing.

The clone laid out on their cruddy mattress, looking distantly up towards the ceiling with glassy eyes. If they even noticed the Kazam carrying a shoulder bag teleporting in, they ignored him. Even when he sneered at the broken garbage they left behind, and gave the broken mirror a pensive look.

Nico watched the lack of response from the dissociating clone. Clearly, that’s what they were doing; he knew _that_ look all too well. Maybe it was just a clone thing. Perhaps it was even a Giovanni thing. No wonder Mattie thought he would have an advantage with negotiations.

He tried to hail them with a polite cough. When they still didn’t acknowledge him, he attempted a soft, tentative _“Hey”_ that at least earned him the briefest of sideways glances. The Adversary looked back up at the dimly lit stalagmites above them with a slightly more annoyed expression.

Nico swallowed his growing frustration. Is this what his own handlers felt like when having to deal with him? _“Are you ready yet? Don’t tell me you already forgot.”_

The Adversary closed their eyes sullenly. _“I didn’t forget.”_

 _“Well, we need to get going,”_ Nico gestured towards the entrance of the cave, hidden by a strategically placed mountain of hoarded items. _“There’s a window of opportunity we’ll have to take if we want the most straightforward route.”_

With a huff, the other clone willed themself to get to their feet, and tilted their sunhat over their face.

Nico, with his many years of running around Kanto at Giovanni’s whim, had enough of a grasp on most of the major cities to simply teleport to them, with some effort. It was a useful ability, but anything long distance took concentration, energy, and a prayer that you wouldn’t teleport into a solid object.

The Adversary’s clawless, hairless hand felt weird in his, even if his own wasn’t too dissimilar. They reappeared ten feet in the air above the roof of a building in a disorienting instant, and the Mew clone looked around their unfamiliar surroundings curiously.

_“Are we there yet?”_

_“Wh- no, I don’t know how to get to_ **_Alola_ ** _,”_ Nico scoffed, _“we’re taking a boat, like sensible people.”_

The Adversary looked down over the edge of the roof. Beyond the city, the morning sun sparkled off the bay, dotted by ships in the active harbor. Nico pointed towards a particularly massive, brilliantly white vessel jutting out of the horizon. A luxury cruise liner.

The Adversary’s eyes widened, then narrowed thoughtfully. _“That’s pretty big. I think they’ll notice if we take it, and we’ll have to deal with the rest of the crew…”_

 _“What? No, no we’re not hijacking it,”_ Nico did a double take, and sighed. The Alakazam preened his cropped whiskers with a growing smirk. _“We’re just going to… make ourselves at home in it. Preferably in one of the first class suites. They won’t even notice.”_

The Adversary nodded grimly. _“So who are we taking out?”_

 _“We’re not… we’re not taking out anybody.”_ Nico looked over at their cold and serious face, and groaned with growing exasperation. _“This isn’t something Giovanni would put you to, alright? We don’t have to kill anybody.”_

The other clone seemed genuinely surprised. _“I thought you were one of his men? Haven’t you ever had to capture an enemy vessel before?”_

 _“Well, I wasn’t someone he sent to kill people,”_ Nico rolled his eyes, and took the lead. After a moment of watching him fly over rooftops curiously, the Adversary held onto their sunhat, and followed suit.

Vermillion was a busy, diverse harbor, crowded with personal and commercial vessels. Maybe it wasn’t a tourist spot on the level of Cinnabar Island, but it had an annual influx of cruise lines starting their round trips to picturesque island territories. Catching one just about to take off for Alola was a stroke of luck. The vessel was still boarding; the broad dock it was carefully edged up against was filled with tourists waiting to begin their vacation.

The Adversary looked down distrustfully at the crowds. The two psychics tried to discreetly blink from one hiding place to the next; jumping from rooftop to alley as they inched discreetly towards the docks. In theory, nobody human was the wiser.

Nico wrung his hands, and anxiously went over the next steps in his plan. _“Alright, we’ll just… find a room and take care of the passengers. Well, I’ll take care of the passengers.”_

He turned to give his companion a scolding glare, but they weren’t right behind him as he assumed. His ears picked up on the sound of rummaging. In the narrow, shady alley they had teleported near, a dumpster was open, and the strange clone was halfway inside of it as they scavenged.

 _“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”_ Nico spat, and grabbed at the tail swishing over the side. The Adversary had the remnants of a burger in their mouth as they gave him a glare, and a few halfhearted kicks.

 _“Mine! Go get your own! ”_ The clone scolded him like he was in the wrong, like he broke some unspoken code among trash-eating vermin. Nico had to look away, as not to gag.

_“Why the hell are you eating garbage like a fuckin’ animal?”_

The Adversary gave him a confused glare. _“Because I’m hungry? What, you think I’m not going to eat all this perfectly good food humans let go to waste?”_

 _“It’s not ‘good food’, it’s-_ **_ugh_ ** _, nevermind.”_ Nico caught himself before he could really, honestly get into an argument about eating trash. _“How the hell are you still alive at this point?”_

 _“Because humans throw out a lot of food?”_ The Adversary squinted, still undeterred from eating. Repulsed, Nico gave up and turned away from the sight, smell and sounds of rotting food being devoured.

_“Fine, just… finish up and we can find a room. We’re going to be ‘borrowing’ it, so I’m going to handle its occupants.”_

The Adversary wiped their mouth and jogged to catch up to him. _“And what are you going to do with these occupants?”_

_“You’ll see.”_

They both resumed sneaking closer to the enormous, looming vessel. After regrouping between the huge smokestacks on top, Nico jumped down first to float along the side of the ship. His companion followed suit, uncertain; ducking alongside him to dodge the eyes of humans who were simply admiring the view from their new balconies. The Alakazam pulled the other clone by the sleeve to guide them out of sight.

Carefully, he looked in a window half-covered by curtains, ears perked up with curiosity. _“This one looks suitably posh. What do you think?”_

The Adversary looked into the freshly cleaned room with two beds, narrowing their eyes at the upper class passengers that were just starting to get settled. _“They’re elderly, and completely unarmed. The man has recently been through heart surgery. I trust they won’t be much trouble. Have you done this sort of thing before?”_

The Alakazam smiled despite himself, and cracked his knuckles in preparation. _“Nope, but I always wanted to try.”_

Nico could put a small theater of people under hypnosis, if he so wanted; he had to, once. He was always cleaning up the jobs human Rocket agents inevitably bungled. His ability to hone in on the minds of these bystanders was second nature by now, stopping them in their tracks before they could acknowledge he blinked into the room.

The Adversary watched through the window as he gestured for the elderly couple to turn around and face him, their eyes looking through him, blank. Nico bowed his head like he was speaking to lucid people.

_“I’m afraid there’s been a terrible bureaucratic mixup. You see, this room is taken. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to spend your anniversary at home, this year.”_

The gray old man in his lively Alolan shirt blinked, but didn't seem to actually be seeing the large, intimidating psychic that loomed over him. “R-really? But we’re just about to take off…”

Nico smiled in the strained way that would have mirrored any overworked staff member wanting to get on with the rest of their shift. _“This pains me more than it pains… oh, who am I kidding. This isn’t going to hurt me at all.”_

Holding up both hands, the humans’ eyes rolled into the back of their head, going stiff on their feet as all control of their muscles was co-opted by the psychic infiltrating their mind. Just as quickly as it started, the two of them went limp, hanging in the air loosely for Nico to snap his fingers and make them disappear.

With the room now apparently theirs, the Adversary entered like an outdoor cat exploring the inside of a house. _“That’s it? Where did you send them?”_

 _“Oh, just a few miles into town; they’ll have to catch a cab, but that’s neither here nor there.”_ Nico did a few preening, unnecessary stretches to congratulate himself on a job well done, as if he exerted any physical effort at all. _“Barring any, say, unwanted run-ins with housekeeping, I think it’s safe to say that we can hide in plain sight the entire trip. Between our respective abilities, what are they going to do?”_

The Alakazam shrugged, and smiled at the confusion on the other clone’s face. _“This will get us to where we need to go, don’t you worry. I would just like to take the opportunity to enjoy the full scope of freedom, for once.”_

And with that, the tall psychic dropped his meager travelling bag and draped himself across a luxuriously large bed, and sighed contentedly from the simple comfort of stretching out without his feet hanging off the edge.

He watched the Adversary look around with wide and curious eyes. The full weight of the agency they had was dawning on them, from the way their tail restlessly swished from side to side. The strange clone beelined to the luggage the humans left half-unpacked and began rifling through its contents.

This was surreal, even for his surreal life. Nico watched the monstrous creature from his more recent nightmares, the end result of human greed and hubris, pick through the vacation clothes of a retiree with intent to plunder. They were a creature out of time that the gods could not destroy, something that by all accounts shouldn’t be here. And yet, there they were, as lost as he was. Just beginning to understand the parts of life Giovanni kept from them.

Nico got their attention gently, before they could really get involved with all the loud and tacky shirts they were collecting. _“Let’s set some ground rules, first. You’re going to stay here and we are going to minimize our interaction with the rest of the ship. No exploring, no bothering the humans.”_

The Adversary pretended to ignore them. Nico pretended that they weren’t. _“Also, no hoarding or rampant stealing. I get that you have no respect for the concept of property, but I would like to keep crimes that could be traced back to us to a minimum.”_

 _“Hmm.”_ The Adversary may or may not have replied; they directed it more towards the sunglasses they tried to put on, with no human ears to hold them up.

Nico rolled his eyes. _“Okay, fine, don’t listen to me. If humans catch you, I’m not bailing you out.”_

 _“Humans will not catch me again. Ever.”_ The bluntness in the Adversary’s telepathy caused a sinking feeling in the pit of the Alakazam’s stomach. This was less keeping them out of trouble, and more keeping the human civilians out of harm’s way.

_“Right. Well, one can only hope.”_

Nico watched them revel in taking out things from the tourist’s belongings, an almost childlike wonder in their eyes. He idly wondered if they were always… _like this_. Then again, weren’t they incubated until maturity, purposefully locked in ignorance like the other Mewtwo? Perhaps that made them easier for Giovanni to manipulate, to mold a creature without empathy in his idealized image of a loyal servant.

But they _weren’t_ loyal, were they? They hated him, just as much as Nico did. They didn’t even get the briefest glimmers of hope that he did; like falling in love, or attempting escape. As far as he knew, anyways.

 _“So,”_ Nico ventured, _“I can’t just keep calling you ‘the Adversary’; do you even have a name yet?”_

 _“I’m working on it.”_ The other clone sounded annoyed, in that particular way Nico could tell was because they hadn’t made any progress. They gave him a withering glare. _“And don’t call me the Adversary. Don’t call me Mewtwo. Don’t call me an ‘it’ or an ‘asset’. I am neither of those things.”_

Nico’s ears drew back from the defensive response. _“Alright, alright. What do you want me to call you, then?”_

Their annoyed glower faded into a lost, Deerling-in-the-headlights sort of look. _“I… I don’t know. Just, think of something.”_

 _Think of something, so I don’t have to._ Nico could understand that kind of hesitation. Freedom was a paralyzing force.

 _“Alright, uh… “_ Nico hesitated, feeling the magnitude of choosing a name for another person. _“Adv- er, ‘Addie’, I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, but you’re going to have to tell me what that is when you cross that bridge.”_

The clone - Addie - blinked at him, either processing the nickname or his turn of phrase, and quietly nodded in their approval.

This wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’d have to do himself, in theory. Nico hoped that, for once, it would all pan out uneventfully and he would find himself on a return trip from Alola without much fuss. Whether that involved the now former Adversary wasn’t about to be any of his business.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: dysphoria and discussion on The Genders

With the curtains drawn, the air-conditioning on, and the lights out, Nico was  _ going _ to get some sleep. Even if it was the last thing he did. Well, hopefully it wouldn't be the  _ last _ thing he did; he was always uncomfortably aware of how his insomnia could affect his health as a psy-type in the long run. It felt futile at this point, but he had to try. He promised the Doc he'd take care of himself more. 

In the end, his efforts to relax were in vain. Not because of any failure on his part, but because he now was keenly aware that Addie had snuck off during those few precious moments where he  _ did _ doze off. The ship was only so big, and he would normally be able to sense a psychic powerhouse like them easily, but they had this uncanny ability to mask their presence. It would be impressive if it wasn't so nerve wracking.

Because of this, the only thing that alerted him to their return was the balcony door sliding ever so slowly. Nico didn't move, eyes covered by a tourist's dark shirt as an impromptu sleeping mask.

_ "What did I say about going off on your own?" _

Addie flinched, and briefly their concentration towards hiding themself faltered to reveal the spooked cat they really were. Nico lifted the sleeping mask to give them a tired, admonishing look.

_ "Alright, what did you get this time?" _

Addie failed to hide the bag of loot behind their back; they were just too skinny.  _ "Just… things. That I wanted." _

The Alakazam groaned as he sat up, uncovering his eyes to turn on the phone he brought with him. Three hours this time… well, not bad for being on a boat. As his roommate began to unload the spoils of their raid, he went ahead and answered Fuji's texts.  _ Yes _ , he was still safe.  _ Yes _ , he brought his meds.  _ No _ , he didn't know how long this would take. At the end of the miniature questionnaire Fuji had attached a picture of Nico's dog, to make up for peppering him with increasingly worried messages.

It took nearly smacking his long muzzle against a hairless face to realize Addie was reading over his shoulder. With a surprised sound, the Alakazam sprang away from the clone in his personal space.  _ "What the fuck - how the hell do you keep  _ **_doing_ ** _ that?!" _

_ "Doing what?" _ Addie blinked obliviously before it dawned on them.  _ "Oh, it's just something I learned to do at the colony." _

_ "I have never seen a Kazam be able to mask their presence so completely. Who could've possibly…" _

_ "I trained myself." _ The other clone smiled with a hint of pride at their accomplishment.  _ "The Kazam were so worried when I was around that I tried to make myself invisible to their perception. They can't be scared of me if they can't sense me." _

…Ouch. That felt a little  _ too _ familiar.  _ "That's… rather sad, actually. So did they realize you were the-" _

_ "I think they just didn't understand what I was at all. Not that I blame them." _ Addie's expression turned bittersweet, before they turned their attention back to the image on his phone.  _ "Who's that?" _

Nico did a double take as he looked down at the photo. His Growlithe was in Fuji's lap, as spoiled as ever. 

_ "Oh. Uh. That's Diogenes, my dog. And my, um-" _ Nico hesitated to describe the doctor in a way that wouldn't embarrass him into an early grave. His creator? His family? His fa-  _ "-my landlord, Fuji." _

That was still pretty embarrassing. Addie looked confused for a moment, possibly because they didn’t know what a landlord was, before switching gears yet again.  _ “So, they’re setting up the buffet outside tonight. Could you join me?” _

Nico scoffed.  _ “Oh, so you’re perfectly content sneaking off on your own to steal valuables, but you need your hand held when getting dinner?” _

His remark didn’t come off as teasing as he thought, as he watched the other clone lower their gaze dejectedly.  _ “Uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just thought of you to be more of a loner.” _

_ “Well, I’m not a loner by  _ **_choice_ ** _.” _ Addie sneered, and turned back to their newly obtained material possessions in a huff. Nico felt he deserved that cold shoulder.

Being around them was like walking on eggshells; something Nico remembered being better at, once. Stripped of the meager scraps of pride he gathered from being at Giovanni’s side, he realized that all of his charisma was an act of imitating a man he absolutely didn’t want to be. Now he was just  _ himself, _ and he was an awkward jackass.

Addie, similarly free to be genuine, was just as lost and awkward; but they were chaotic in a way he couldn’t get a read on. It had barely been a couple days now, stuck in closed quarters with a bundle of newly unrepressed emotion and zero healthy coping mechanisms. The impulsive way they acted out, overindulged, and chased the highs to escape the crushing lows almost reminded him of-

… No, let’s not bring her into this. The less he had to think about her, the better.

But Addie was even more feral than  _ her _ , to say the least. Nico wasn’t sure if this was the product of being socialized solely by Giovanni or not. Looking over their side of the room, he noticed a few more things they snuck into their fresh hoard under his nose, but ultimately knew he couldn’t do anything about it. Why risk getting atomized over someone’s laundry?

The hairless clone purred with delight as they fished out a cocktail dress and held it up themself, gauging how it would fit like any other human would. After telekinetically pulling off the other dress they wore they quickly changed, rushing to keep their attention off the body underneath. The new outfit was a slinky, red little thing that looked extra scandalous due to their proportions.

Addie tried in vain to pull the ill-fitting bottom over both their broad thighs and their tail. Nico watched them struggle a bit with amusement, before stepping in.  _ “Wait, let’s try this.” _

He ripped the hem of the bottom in a couple of strategic areas, and eased the tight fit over their hips. The result was perhaps even more revealing, but such was the price of fashion. Addie looked over the form-fitting dress with a critical eye, smoothing out the wrinkles and making further adjustments. It just  _ barely _ fit. All of the intense scrutinizing ended with a frustrated sigh and clenched fists.

_ “It’s not enough.” _

Nico flinched as the cocktail dress was psychically ripped asunder from the other clone’s body. Shreds of expensive red fabric littered the floor. Addie’s posture slumped dejectedly, and they draped themself over the miniature hoard on their bed to sulk. This happened at least once a day, and reminded Nico why he never bothered wearing human clothes in the first place. Why even try? It wasn’t going to make him feel  _ normal. _ It likely didn’t make Addie feel any more normal, either.

Addie’s issues seemed different in a particular way, but it wasn’t any of his business. Still, he didn’t like seeing someone be as miserable as him, so he tried to distract them when he could.

Nico carefully prodded them.  _ “If you go into a dissociative state now, you’ll miss dinner, you know.” _

Their tail tip flicked in annoyance. Nico doubled down.  _ “If all those bourgeoisie are going to be out on the deck for a black tie event, it’s only fair you take the chance to dress up, too.” _

He felt a sense of accomplishment in seeing them lift their head, their interest piqued.

* * *

The main gathering area for the top deck was built in an annoyingly abstract way, with few places to stow away out of view. Sitting on the fiberglass awning and overlooking the party going on, the two psychics hid in plain sight. Hopefully, the humans would be too distracted by food and alcohol to look up.

_ “This feels weird,” _ Addie curled up protectively, as if their feet dangling over the side might catch someone’s attention.  _ “Are you sure we’re not going to be found out?” _

_ “Oh, trust me; humans have tunnel vision like no other.” _ Nico remarked, still keeping an eye on anyone who might suddenly telegraph the panic of seeing a strange pokemon.  _ “Even if they do see you, they’re easily suggestible. You can make them think their eyes are playing tricks on them, and they’ll be none the wiser.” _

_ “Their eyes play tricks on them?” _

Nico chuckled.  _ “Oh, human brains are extremely buggy. You ever do any cleaner work for Giovanni? Like, memory tampering, that sort of thing?” _

Addie shook their head, owlish eyes reflecting oddly in the darkness of the evening. Nico’s ears perked up with muted surprise.

_ “Really? Oh, well I guess you and I had vastly different jobs under him. I’m not much of a fighter, I’m more of a manipulator, you see.” _ Subconsciously, he preened his mane to look halfway presentable. This was a black-tie event, after all.  _ “I could remove specific elements of a human’s memory so subtly, they hardly notice it’s gone. I’ve wiped the existence of whole people from the minds of others.” _

Addie gave him a thoughtful look, seemingly mulling it over before asking their question.  _ “Can you do it to other pokemon?” _

_ “I don’t do it at all anymore, period.” _ Nico was quick to firmly answer.  _ “It’s too dangerous, no matter how delicately I can do it. I’ll do what I can to survive in a world ruled by humans, but I won't do the sorts of things Giovanni would ask of me anymore. Once you do it to someone you care about, it all gets put into perspective. Humanity is too fragile for the likes of us.” _

The hairless clone nodded sagely.  _ “They’re very soft. They bleed very easily.” _

_ “Uhh… yeah.” _ Nico winced at the mere implications of their very different observation.

And with that, the conversation came to an awkward and uncomfortable halt. Not that Addie seemed to even notice; they were preoccupied with watching the well dressed, likely rich humans milling below them. Nico wondered if they were interested in the allure of socializing, like back at the colony, or if they merely had their eyes on all the fancy outfits.

Darkness made their strange, liminal existence on the sidelines of humanity easier. People barely gave any thought to shadows in the darkness just outside their deck lights, especially when they felt a subtle psychic compulsion to avoid them. The buffet was already out in the open, so it was just a matter of some careful, well-timed teleporting and levitating. One didn’t even need to leave their seat if they had a good vantage point.

Nico, frankly, had years of experience sneaking around humans, so he easily managed to get the lion’s share of what he wanted off the table and cleanly blink it into his hungry, waiting hands. Addie was less accustomed to being able to choose their own food in the first place; they anxiously fidgeted and hesitated over grabbing a plate with their telekinesis to begin with. The Kazam understood the feeling of being lost when suddenly presented with so many options; he still felt particularly debauched and drunk on power himself just for being able to raid the seafood table without issue. But, he wasn’t going to play dumb when it came to their unique situation. Every moment spent with him was almost certainly a brand new, dreadfully overwhelming experience for them. It would be cruel of him to not find sympathy in a plight so unique to clones like themselves.

Trying to keep them in the mindset that they were making these decisions themself, Nico took to subtly suggesting things. Have you tried those little roasted game fowls yet? Perhaps you can sneak some crab legs to me, too? It wasn’t hard, and it wasn’t particularly manipulative; Nico could feel the relief behind the simple duty of taking someone’s suggestions. 

_ “Ever try this?” _ Nico offered an extra plate he grabbed from the dessert table, with a single small square of cake in the middle. Addie sniffed it like a distrusting dog before recognizing the sweetness of its scent and grabbing it possessively. Their enthusiasm would have been cute, if they didn’t eat like a starving Raticate.

When they finished, Nico cleared his throat politely and gestured for them to wipe their face. He was getting through to them on basic manners, little by little. Domestication wasn’t in his job description, but it was for his own sanity.

_ “Where did you get that?” _ Addie asked eagerly, their eyes bright with what hopefully wasn’t going to be some catastrophic sugar rush soon. 

Nico pointed towards the dessert table at the end of the buffet row.  _ “Over there. Go knock yourself out.” _

He was surprised to see them blink away; he hoped they weren’t going to get  _ too _ close. From another vantage point hiding just under the railing, the clone tried to get a better look.

Addie’s feline eyes widened in awe of the selection. Cakes cut into demure portions, cookies laid out neatly, gelatin molded into small, colorful mountains….  _ Everything _ looked good - and they were going to try every. Single. One.

At least, they would have, if The Most Beautiful Woman in the World didn’t also walk up to the table.

She was so small, so delicate; petite in a way that made the clone hyper aware of their size, lovely in a way that made Addie feel hideous. They would have preferred to go their entire life without knowing that people could look  _ like that. _ They would rather feel normal amounts of misery over their monstrous self, not this pining over something they couldn’t have.

The pain was so sudden, so overwhelming, tears welled up in their eyes as they could only stare, dumbstruck. Watching this woman go about her life, naturally. Casually. Like she belonged in this world. But, Addie didn’t live in the same world she did, didn’t they?

Their appetite utterly destroyed, the clone silently blinked away.

Nico noticed his companion’s sudden escape, but considering how close they got, he wasn’t surprised if they spooked themself. Served them right, risking getting seen like that. That human woman had to be inches away.

He was relieved to see that they returned to the room, at least. They were at the tiny little table and chair set up on the balcony, limply draped over a chair and staring up at the bottom of the neighboring balcony above them. Trying not to exist, as Nico had gathered. That wasn’t anything different, but the fact that they were naked gave him pause.

Nico was about to just awkwardly let himself inside to give them space, but he hesitated. His empathy as a fellow miserable clone got the better of him.  _ “You uh, you alright there, pal? Need me to grab you a new dress?” _

Addie sighed, the light coming back to their eyes if only to sigh and melt into even more of a boneless slump.  _ “I don’t deserve clothes.” _

_ “ _ **_I_ ** _ think you deserve clothes,” _ Nico countered, however half-heartedly.

_ “What’s the point?” _ Addie’s telepathy was a low and exhausted-sounding mumble.  _ “I’m always going to look like this. I’m always going to be big, and ugly, and miserable.” _

Nico ran a hand through his mane with a barely-contained groan, and resigned himself to taking the shitty plastic chair across from them.  _ “Wanna talk about it?” _

Addie broke out of their lull enough to give him a sideways look.  _ “What?” _

_ “I said, do you want to talk about it,” _ Nico repeated.  _ “It’s not going to do you any good to keep all that bottled up, you know.” _

He remembered when Char asked him that same question, firm with the weight of understanding her own need to vent. He was young, nobody asked him something like that before. As much as he felt like he absolutely wasn’t qualified, it felt fitting to pay that forward with a fellow clone.

Addie mulled over his offer, looking through the sheer volume of their problems with an uncomfortable grimace. They resumed staring at the underside of the neighboring balcony.

_ “I wish I wasn’t me. I want to be someone else. Nothing works, nothing fixes it. I’m still going to be me, and I am a monster.” _

_ “Well… who would you rather be, instead?” _

The pained, miserable whine they let out in response gave Nico the impression that the answer was too complicated for words. They curled up into a tight little ball in their seat.

_ “I don’t know! I see people and I wish I was them because they look nice, and it looks nice to be them, and they look more like they should look like that than I ever will!” _

Nico gave them a confused squint as he parsed whatever the hell that was.  _ “I see. Who did you see this time?” _

Addie looked up at him from their scrunched up position.  _ “I saw a really, really beautiful woman.” _

Oh. Well, that put things into perspective. Explaining just a little bit of their predicament seemed to relieve a bit of their tension, slowly unfolding themself and sitting like a normal person. Nico nodded, in that  _ ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m sorry?’ _ sort of way.

Addie gave him a very serious look, like they were passing immensely important, revelatory knowledge.  _ “You don’t understand. She was everything I ever wanted to look like and she exists and she’s not me! I can’t be that!” _

_ “Alright. So, what, do you want to be a girl? Is this a gender thing, or…” _

_ “I don’t know?” _ The hairless clone sounded distressed.  _ “That’s the worst part! I don’t know if I want to be a woman, or a man, or what! I don’t know if anything fits because nothing fits! I’m always uncomfortable, nothing feels right, nothing  _ **_works!_ ** _ ” _

As their telepathy became more of an upset shout, Nico felt guilty for subconsciously leaning away from the distressing tone.  _ “Okay, alright, I get it. Let’s just… take a breath, and not get upset enough to cause property damage again, alright?” _

The other clone let out a frustrated growl, hopefully not at him. They seemed to be fighting back the urge to simply explode, as was their preferred method of dealing with these things. Destructiveness wasn't going to solve anything, but it did feel good.

_ "Even if I know what I want, do I even deserve it? I'm just a monster, I'm huge and ugly and I was only made to be that. They didn't make me so I could have feelings, or want things. Or be…  _ **_anything_ ** _." _

_ "Yes, well, the folly of our creators is that they wanted to create something with intelligence without dealing with the aftermath of our personhood.” _ Nico didn’t hide the lifetime of bitterness behind his words. That specific type of existential angst was something they had in common, but he had decades to process it. His companion had what, only a few years?

Addie had a pleading look in their eyes, perhaps not for answers but for validation. Nico fidgeted with a strand of fur on his shaggy forearms, and tried not to feel like they were putting him on the spot.

_ “Look… this isn’t my forte. I have more than enough identity issues of my own, but I’m quite comfortably a man. For what it’s worth, I think femininity… suits you?” _

They seemed to consider that, their gaze growing distant as they looked out over the balcony. The ocean was a never-ending expanse of ink, but the stars above faintly reflected on the choppy surface of the water. The result almost looked like an optical illusion; there was no point at which sky and sea met. It was all dark, and it was all empty, and Nico was glad to feel grounded on a boat instead of lost in the void.

Addie adopted a more sulking slouch again.  _ “I’d make a terrible girl.” _

_ “I think you’re looking at this from the perspective of humanity, and humans have  _ **_dismal_ ** _ ideas about gender,” _ Nico admitted with a shrug.  _ “I mean, look at the Kazam. They barely differentiate the concept; we all have whiskers, after all. It took humans an embarrassingly long time to stop perpetuating the myth that we were all male.” _

_ “I don’t think I want to be a male,” _ Addie sighed, looking down at the scars on their fingers thoughtfully.  _ “When the doctors would give me examinations, they said I was that, but they still called me an ‘it’. That felt worse. Like I didn’t even deserve to be the thing they made me to be.” _

_ “Objectification is a purposeful tactic they use,” _ Nico noted grimly.

_ “I like the idea of being a girl…” _ The hairless clone had a wistful expression on their face, at the notion.  _ “I want to look like that. I want to feel like what that looks like. But what if I’m still not happy? What if after everything I do to be one way or another, I've just wasted my time?" _

_ "Then try something else?”  _ Nico paused to compose a clarified response.  _ “Adds', you're not beholden to what humanity says is male or female, or even what they find monstrous or beautiful. You are something entirely different, someone  _ **_unique_ ** _ , and that means it should be up to you what these things mean to you. You're the most powerful individual on the planet; who's going to  _ **_stop_ ** _ you?" _

Addie considered his argument, and their silence made Nico self conscious about speaking up in the first place. The hairless, bright-eyed clone had a contemplative expression. They have him a look of scrutiny, muted by their own sadness.  _ "Why do you care?" _

Nico stared blankly at them, put on the spot before he chuckled, and waved off the question.  _ "In all honesty? Even beyond the sympathy for another lost clone, I take satisfaction in knowing Giovanni is spinning in a non-existent grave with every choice you make for yourself. There is no greater 'fuck you' you could give him than being a self actualized, er, trans woman? Nonbinary individual? Whatever you settle on, he'd be  _ **_furious_ ** _." _

Addie's eyes lit up with revelatory delight.  _ "You're right… fuck Giovanni!" _

_ "Yeah, fuck 'em." _

_ "Fuck him!!" _ The clone triumphantly declared again, fists in the air cheering on the further desecration of the man's ruined dreams of megalomania. Nico felt the rush of confidence it brought them. To live in spite of everything your abuser did to you was a powerful feeling.

The light and life of whoever this individual was shone through, despite everything that happened to them. As overwhelming and disorienting the weight of true freedom was, in that moment they truly reveled in it. Feeling lost was normal; even Nico understood that natural born people, who for all intents and purposes  _ had _ a place in the world, felt lost in a way that could only be resolved through self-introspection. The cards were stacked against Addie from day one, and if anyone was going to go above and beyond, it would be them. Though, maybe that was wishful thinking on the Kazam’s part.

Their spirits brought back up, Addie finally put on a new dress. Now that it was brought to his attention, Nico couldn’t help but notice the soft and airy way they moved. There was a certain gracefulness they had while wearing the things that suited them best. No matter how dark those low points of their mood got, there was still a certain cheerfulness about them. Nico didn’t know how they managed that.

Addie twirled in place a bit, their skirt fanning out around them.  _ “Can you believe human men don’t wear these? Their clothes are so boring!” _

With all the dry and professional suits they were probably around, it’s no wonder they held that opinion. Nico shrugged noncommittally.  _ “As I said, humanity has a miserable idea of gender roles.” _

_ “I dunno what all of it means sometimes, it feels like a lot of it is made up.” _ The well-dressed clone noted.  _ “Maybe I’m not entirely girl, but I like what they look like, so maybe that makes me one? I dunno. This is confusing. Does everyone get this?” _

_ “Well, some people. You’re not alone in having this issue, at the very least.” _

Addie wistfully looked out over the balcony, and into the darkness of the night. The relief was evident on their face, perhaps just from getting to voice their problems.  _ “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” _

The Alakazam rose from his seat to join them, curiously squinting at the inky void of the sea. Without any of the feline features that the other clone had, his eyes were unsuited to the minimal light.  _ “I don’t see anything.” _

_ “I see… an endless horizon, a world that’s so much bigger than what I thought it was. Just looking over the sea, it’s huge; there’s so much more to life than what I was meant to experience. Life is beautiful, isn’t it? I think I get it now, just a little.” _

Nico gave them a blank stare before self consciously averting his gaze. He didn’t want to ruin their moment with his…  _ everything. _

_ “...No comment.” _


	6. Chapter 6

Vulnerable, uncomfortable, and with her ass laid bare to the world, Char sat in her hospital gown and waited to be seen. The monotony of this sterile purgatory was preferred to the hellish claustrophobia of the MRI scanner, all things considered. As many times as she had her brainmeat looked at, it never got any less unpleasant.

She was used to waiting these out alone. Her father stopped joining her out of solidarity when she was sixteen, at her behest. There was something about having her family around during doctor’s appointments that made her feel… patronized. Especially when the doctor would speak to them and not her. Now that she was older, the wait times felt shorter, and the doctors sounded more sincere.

Char had grown so accustomed to the silence of the room that she jumped when the door opened, letting in a cool, air conditioned breeze and a brief cacophony of the sounds outside. The doctor was a little old man who looked like literally every little old man neurosurgeon she had encountered before. Did they clone doctors nowadays, too?

“Miss Charlotte Jessop, now how are you today?” His rustic, southern-Hoenn accent sounded tailor-made to seem as pleasantly friendly as possible.

“Not so bad,” Char replied noncommittally. Her nerves were so worn down by the gauntlet of examinations she already received that her irritation looped back around into a sort of tired chillness.

“Been a minute, eh? I’m Dr. Serizawa, you remember me?” the man in the pristine labcoat took a seat, and looked for recognition in Char’s eyes. Oh shit, _a test_.

“Sure do, sir.” Char lied, and held out a hand to shake. She smiled warmly enough that she could see the scrutiny fade slightly from the man’s gaze.

“Good, good.” Serizawa had a firm grip; used to Hariyama, no doubt. “Now, I have your scans here, and we gave them a good look, but I have to ask you a few questions before we proceed.”

Char nodded, keeping a gentle smile to hide the curdling dread in her gut. The doctor nodded in turn, and pulled a set of scans out of a manilla folder.

“Have you had any psychic contact within the last six months?”

“Uh, yeah… every day for the last year or so.” The trainer’s face slowly turned pink as she had to at least be mostly honest. “Class A sapient, rank, uh... five or six on the Cayce Scale? Mostly non-intrusive communion; you know, a therapy Kazam. Had him for a bit now.”

Serizawa’s bushy grey eyebrows raised at her confession. “Five or six? Good lord, that’s a hell of a Kazam.”

“Yeah, he’s - he knows about my condition. We’re careful about it.”

She didn’t like the look the doctor gave her. He examined the most recent scan in comparison to the last scan they took, at eighteen. He had a disappointed expression that Char was all too used to seeing.

“Well, thing is, we don’t really see the improvement we projected for your psy-damage.”

Char felt cold. “So is it like, _worse,_ or…”

“You haven’t shown signs of any of the affected areas deteriorating further,” Serizawa used a finger to trace a circle around a part of the scan, “but the lack of progress is disappointing. The medication and those final few years of adult brain development should have given at least minor results; your condition has basically stagnated.”

“Yeah but, it’s not _worse_ , right?” Char insisted, her plea for some sort of passably good news evident in her eyes. The doctor’s expression turned firm.

“We figured you’d reach a plateau in your mid-twenties, but these scans are disappointing. Especially here-” he circled a little bit at the bottom of one of the newer scans “- this is actually _worse_ than when we last had you in. This is temporal damage that we usually see in major mind-wipe cases, not Embrace Syndrome… do you have any explanation for that?”

Char felt the temperature drop around her, breaking into an icy sweat. She looked him in the eye, and pulled a lie out of her ass. “That was years ago. Run in with a psy trainer that played fast and loose with Confusion. Woke up two days later robbed and stuffed in a dumpster.”

It helped that such an incident definitely happened, at some point. Lying to a human was child’s play compared to trying to fib to a psychic, so she was grateful for that. Serizawa, however, seemed only barely placated by her cover story. He didn’t hide the suspicion in his eyes as he curtly nodded. “I’m guessing this is when you were out of the region?”

“Yeah, off the grid, too. Couldn’t afford to go get it looked at.”

“How were you able to get a hold of your prescriptions, then?”

“Knew a guy who knew a guy,” Char shrugged. “What, you gonna call a jenny on me for trying to keep my ass alive?”

The doctor sighed minutely, trying not to let his patient know he was getting frustrated with her. She would be frustrated with herself, too. He studied the defiant fire in her tired eyes carefully.

“And how have your actual symptoms improved, if at all? Your motor control test came back with good results; that’s promising. Your visual and hearing tests are normal, too. Are you still experiencing your hallucinations and intrusive thoughts?”

Char shrugged. “Less than I used to. Like… once in a while.”

A while being about ten years. It had been a nice, peaceful decade so far; you can’t grieve for someone you couldn’t remember. If that meant a little bit more of her brain had to shrivel up, she’d take it.

Serizawa frowned at the unclear answer. “So less night terrors, less symptoms of your ‘grief’ towards the Gardevoir?”

“I don’t miss it.” Char answered flatly, leaning back on one hand to try and straightened her back out. Sitting on the table with no support for so long was getting to her.

The doctor narrowed his eyes. “Do you not miss it, or do you not remember it?”

Char stared back at him. “I don’t miss it.”

Serizawa’s expression mercifully softened as his attention went towards writing down notes and typing up things Char wasn’t privy to at his desk. For a few minutes, the conversation lulled enough that his patient could relax; not too much, though - she couldn’t make it look like she had something to hide.

“So, on the topic of your medication.” The doctor wheeled himself away from the corner desk and back to his preferred spot to interrogate her. “Since you haven’t renewed your license in about… fifteen years, you aren’t eligible for trainer’s insurance, so-”

“I’m getting it renewed today.” Char answered quickly. The old man’s bushy eyebrows raised.

“Well, I’ll give you the prescription to put in when you get that sorted out. Do you still have enough medication until then from your, ah, ‘outside sources’?”

“A few more months,” Char admitted casually. When Giovanni obviously wasn’t able to be the middleman for her under-the-table pharmaceuticals any more, she had to stock up on her own time, some months back. Luckily, having an obscenely powerful psychic on her side made the heist a piece of cake.

“Right.” Serizawa scribbled down a few more hasty notes. “Between you and me, I’m going to overlook the details on how you were able to get such a specialized medicine under our noses… mentioning that is going to be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Thanks, doc.”

With a final sigh, the doctor gave his notes a final once-over. “Alright, Jessop. I want to see you again in another six months, same as we used to. Please discuss these results with your therapy psychic, as well; if his influence could be affecting yo-”

“He isn’t hurting a damn thing.”

“I’ve heard that before, you know.” Serizawa grimaced. “You aren’t the only psy-addict who can’t function normally without one in their life. The long-term symptoms of Embrace Syndrome exacerbates the addiction. He might be making you feel better, but he isn’t _helping_ you.”

Char matched his chilly look stubbornly. “I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Of course you are.” With a grunt, the old man got to his feet and waddled to the door. Char was all too thankful to finally grab her jeans, pausing only when Serizawa stopped in the open doorway. The graying doctor gave her a final, critical look.

“By the way, Charlotte... we’ve never met before.”

Char couldn’t get a last word in before he shut the door.

-

Especially suited to the larger sapient fighters, the League forms were on large, sturdy paper and a clipboard that was basically steel. The modern League had adapted to Hoennese ways readily ever since the massive reformations decades back. Yanna hadn’t been born yet then, but he heard more than enough tales about a time when Hoenn was independent. And how the League quietly took over the world.

The partnership between humans and Hariyama went back to the start of their recorded history. If the League upset that, they would have provoked war in a time where neither side had the resources for conflict. After the ‘reformation’ started more than a few wars, the Hoennese branch was more open to negotiate than the other, newly appointed ‘regions’. Now, you didn’t simply leave your partner, no; you had to sign a piece of paper. You had to sign your name on a form that did not frame you as your own person. Such was life, sorted into humanity’s neat little boxes. _Bureaucracy._

After years in Kanto, it was a relief to no longer deal with rude stares and uncooperative behavior. Even the secretary was his equal; a four-handed woman, a Machamp - no, a Ma _choke_ , judging by her frail-looking second arms. The second pair of hands dutifully did most of the work in typing and writing as her more developed first set passed on papers and worked the computer. The Machamp were multidexterous, with a knack at multitasking to match, but their second arms grew out slowly as their brains developed the necessary motor control. The rough-skinned woman acknowledged Yanna, and spoke in a thrum similar to his.

**“Mountain-son, how can I help you?”**

**“Madam, my severance documents.”** Yanna briefly clasped his hands in a polite gesture, and produced the clipboard of papers he spent the last half an hour finishing. The secretary’s smaller, more human-like hand darted out to snatch it without interrupting the rhythm behind her work.

 **“Fourteenth of the Clan of Shou, Third Son Under Granite,”** the secretary read out the Hoennese characters of his ‘first’ name, his formal name of placement within his family’s genealogy. **“My apologies, but we do not accept forms written in Hoennese. We only take Kantonian script.”**

**“...What?”**

**“Rules of the League.”** There was a bit of sympathy in her eyes at the surprise on his face. **“Have you been traveling for long? They changed it five years ago.”**

 **“I was not aware.”** Yanna went pink as he was handed a new, blank set of forms. Back to square one.

 **“There will be a thirty-day wait for processing.”** the secretary added, a hand promptly feeding the now-defunct forms through a shredder with barely a glance towards it. **“You must also have your trainer sign the contract for resignation and exemption.”**

 **“She will be here,”** Yanna quickly cut in, giving another worried glance behind him, towards the rest of the reception area. No sign of his sister. **“...** **_Soon_ ** **. But we** **_are_ ** **making the full declaration of our severance.”**

The Machoke leaned a bit in her seat to glance at the full waiting room, and the queue already beginning to form behind the Hariyama. **“You will need them present when handing in your declaration, for authentication purposes. You must also register a place of residence. And if you are returning to Hoenn permanently you must also submit the necessary forms, but that will be in a different department.”**

Yanna started to sweat. **“Right. Of course.”**

 **“Again, our sincerest apologies.”** The secretary droned with an inflection that would have shamed her entire family through its sarcasm. **“Please allow the line to move now, sir. Mother and Father bless you.”**

 **“Mother and Father bless you.”** Yanna automatically replied, still processing the sheer amount of work ahead of him.

“Wait!” A familiar voice sounded weakly distant, muffled by the background noise of a room full of mostly fighters. Pushing between trainer and pokemon alike, a frazzled Char limped up to the desk.

“Alright, okay, I’m here. Sorry.” The trainer had a few folded papers of her own in one hand, and leaned heavily on her cane with the other. Yanna sighed in relief.

**“Let’s just get this over with.”**

As he led Char to a quieter corner of the reception area, he noticed her quickly stuffing the paper in the nearest trash can.

It was late afternoon by the time the paperwork was finished, hopefully for the last time. By then, they were mentally exhausted. Char wondered if that was a deliberate tactic on the League’s part, to wear everyone down into a pliable nub through bureaucratic tedium. There was only one appointment left on the agenda, and that was to claim her trainer’s benefits.

Char, frankly, hadn’t been to a Trainer’s Finance office since she was still wearing pigtails, and that was when these things were almost solely handled by her parents. If she knew there was so much backend work behind every trainer’s journey, maybe she would have been more careful in the first place. Less shit to sort out and bills to pay for her folks.

The agent had an office that was awkward for a large pokemon like Yanna to navigate. His clean-cut look of a life-long civilian and Galarian accent completed a trifecta of irony for Char, knowing he was pretty much sealing her fate. She would have preferred to talk to a fellow trainer, who wouldn’t judge her by old records and hospital bills alone.

“Ms. Jessop, it’s a pleasure to work with you.” The somewhat younger man’s practiced cordiality was strained after a long day, not unlike hers. Char accepted a limp handshake before they took their respective seats.

“How can I help you today?”

“Got my license renewed, so I want to claim championship finalist’s benefits for finishing my circuit back in the day. Also, I have about a hundred thousand in prize winnings being held by your offices, on account of being hospitalized before I could grab it and being too ‘mentally unfit’ to claim it, afterwards.” Char sneered a little at having to mention it. She had done more than enough ruminating on the most difficult parts of her past for one day. The agent’s eyebrows raised.

“Oh… uh, of course, let me see what I can find in our databases.”

Char idly thought about how many cases like hers this desk jockey went through. Injuries dealt on League property and during _official_ battles were more likely to get insurance benefits than, say, somebody beating you half to death and taking your team to fence on the blackmarket off the route, where no witnesses could back you up. From what she had gathered, these days recording every encounter with a trainer was not just for a quick shot at internet fame, but a source of evidence if things went sour.

Luckily, what she went through was on every newcast for months. Officially, she was in the Sootopolis gym when the Collapse happened. It was a half-truth for her protection then, but now she wondered if the full truth counted as blackmail material. How handsomely would the League pay to keep covering up the secret of a dead god?

The agent snapped her back into attention by clearing his throat politely. He had a cloyingly apologetic look on his face. “My apologies, but… I’m afraid there isn’t anything on record about you winning the championship.”

“What? You fuckin’ kidding me? They gave me the goddamn medal while I was still in the damn hospital!”

“That was a _consolation_ distribution of the medal, you see. You’re not formally recognized as winning the Hoenn League, as someone who _apparently_ didn’t finish the Elite Four Challenge.” There was an edge of growing judgment in his voice. Char felt the heat of embarrassment rise in her cheeks.

“W- wh- I was… _I was sick!_ I couldn’t even get to the challenge if I tried!”

Yanna, beside her, had a look of growing suspicion on his face. **“You really didn’t finish the Gauntlet?”**

“I was sick…” Char’s voice turned small and timid, her posture sinking into itself to match. “My psy-type died, I was in a coma for weeks; Steven fuckin’ Stone said I earned it when he gave that medal to me!”

“A medal is just a medal, I’m afraid.” The agent shook his head with feigned sympathy. “It’s not binding in the eyes of the League.”

“That’s some fuckin’ _bullshit!”_ Char made as if to stand up, grimaced in pain, and slumped back into her seat with a frustrated huff. Her arthritis wasn’t going to let her act on impulse this time. Yanna gave her a grim scowl of disappointment, but still stood to offer her a finger.

**“We should talk about this outside.”**

The trainer paled from his curt tone, and feebly let him guide her onto unsteady feet. The League agent gave her a strained smile, trying to curb his discomfort with her anger.

“I can still set you up with a renewed insurance plan, of course; I can send the details home with your therapy pokemon-”

“Not interested.” Char flatly got the last word in as she let herself be carefully walked out of the door.

Usually, when Yanna took it upon himself to remove Char from situations that were setting her off, he’d make sure she was a good distance away from the problem. This time, he turned to her as soon as the door was shut, simmering underneath a stony expression.

**“What is the truth, sister? Did you complete your journey, or not?”**

“I said I got to the end, I never said anything about _completing_ it.” Char scowled back, leaning against the wall to take weight off of her leg. “Steven could have fuckin’ told me the fine print.”

Yanna slumped against the wall himself, causing a brief tremor to reverberate against Char’s back. **“You really took his word for it?”**

“Honey, I couldn’t even fuckin’ read back then, you think I was in any state to quiz him on the details of my contract?”

The Hariyama’s eyes narrowed at that. **“Do you think he approached you at your sickest for that reason?”**

“Well, he was a League bitch through and through.” Char sighed, eyes glazed over as she looked up at the stucco on the ceiling. “And I was a liability.”

Silence followed her words, as the two of them lingered in the empty hall of the League building. The lack of windows and the fluorescent lighting gave it a claustrophobic, oppressive air to two people who had spent so long under the open sky. Crossing his arms, Yanna let out a miserable rumble.

**“If my family finds out that you never finished the Gauntlet, they’ll blame me, you know.”**

Char looked hurt, dropping her gaze to the faded carpeting of the floor. “Well… what they don’t know won’t hurt them, you know?”

**“I’m not like you, Char. I take no pleasure in lying to them.”**

Char shot him a glare, but the office door opening interrupted her from snapping back at him. From behind it, the insurance agent feebly held up a finger.

“Um… excuse me, you’re kind of blocking my door… I have other appointments, you know.”

He paled from the withering looks the two gave him, but protocol made him swallow his nerves and timidly slip some paper through the crack in the door. “Also, here’s your bill.”

-

Mewtwo tried not to make it look like he had been waiting patiently near the door since Char left, but he kind of… had been doing just that. It wasn’t on purpose, there just wasn’t much else he _could_ do. He wasn’t really allowed to do much in Norman’s house.

It was a new, demeaning experience, having strict boundaries placed on him. He had grown accustomed to the freedom to use a kitchen whenever he wanted, or go outside as he pleased. At first, he thought these were restrictions to keep him out of public view, but now it was hitting him - this was because he was a pokemon. He was being treated like a pokemon.

But, he couldn’t do anything about that, now. He didn’t want to rock the boat in the already turbulent waters of Char and Norman’s strained relationship. If that meant he had to play along with pretending to be ‘trained’, well… so be it.

This would be temporary, at least he hoped; just a few weeks or so for Char to get her champion title sorted out, then they’d have money to get a place of their own. She reminisced about her childhood home out in the sticks, where it was nice and quiet and far away from prying eyes… she knew the current owner, and she wanted to buy it back properly. Mewtwo was enamored with the concept, having a _‘home’_. A house. A permanent place in the world that was his.

He felt Char’s presence before he heard the gravel of the driveway crunch under the tires of an old truck. Suddenly feeling self conscious for being so close to the door, Mewtwo raced over to the livingroom to pretend to watch television. It was a good decision, he realized, when he saw a grim-looking Norman enter first. The old gym leader was in plainclothes rather than his tracksuit today, but the scowl Mewtwo associated with Char never left his face. He had a critical eye on his daughter as she limped in behind him.

Mewtwo’s tail unsubtly flicked against the couch cushions as he watched her, even if she didn’t… look back at him. Norman’s presence put a definite strain on their usually close relationship; neither of them wanted to be caught being too affectionate. Unfortunately, that meant they nearly stopped being affectionate altogether.

“‘M’gunna take a shower,” Char mumbled in her father’s direction as she walked past. Norman gave her a singular grunt of acknowledgment, sitting down at the kitchen table to look over a slew of papers. Mewtwo gave his lover a brief, yearning glance as she passed him.

Yanna was last to enter, looking similarly bedraggled after a long day of… whatever it was they just did. Mewtwo scooted over to the far end of the couch to let him take a seat.

 _“So, um,”_ the psychic made awkward smalltalk, _“how did all the League stuff go?”_

 **“Long, tedious, somewhat humiliating.”** Yanna glowered distantly in the direction of the tv, barely paying attention to the newscast. **“As expected of them.”**

_“Did you get your severance done?”_

**“Hard to say,”** Yanna reached into his pocket to produce a tightly folded set of papers. **“They’ve changed the methods in recent years; it’s far harder to gain independence after entering a partnership with a human, now. It will take no less than a month for it to become official.”**

 _“I’m guessing it’s on purpose, huh?”_ Mewtwo frowned. The Hariyama nodded grimly.

Shuffling out of the spare bedroom, Char had a set of pajamas over her shoulder as she crossed the hallway to the bathroom. Yanna caught Mewtwo staring back at her, and gave him a nudge that nearly knocked the frail psychic over. **“Go see to her, she’s had a long day.”**

 _“Yeah, but...”_ Mewtwo’s eyes flicked nervously over at the man in the kitchen. Norman was in perfect view to catch him in the act of chasing after his daughter.

Yanna gave a sideways glance to the man as well. **“I’ll cover for you.”**

That was all Mewtwo needed, really. As the Hariyama rose to his feet and blocked the view between the kitchen and the livingroom with a drawn-out stretch, the clone quietly slunk off.

Char took a moment to savor the relief of pulling off a knee brace and prosthesis after a long day, carefully stretching out the scarred joint. An array of smaller scars dotted her legs; mostly scratch marks, with a few burn spots and at least one, less severe bite mark.

Slipping into the bathroom, Mewtwo could see all of the wear and tear on Char’s nude body out in the open. Despite his familiarity with it, he still went pink.

_“I um, I thought you might like some company.”_

Char cocked an eyebrow at him, a light sparking in her eyes. Bringing a small smile to her face made the whole day of listless boredom worth it.

Alone and in the comfort of one another’s arms, they both could finally relax. After a shower to wash the stink of bureaucracy off, that is. Mewtwo could feel the feedback of stress ebb away in the warmth of the bath as she settled against him, but there was always… _something_ there, in the back of their bond. It had been there since they came to Hoenn; that knot of anxiety he could only guess came from the dread of facing her past.

It wasn’t his place to ask, probably. Especially when she already had issues with her memory, whether they were self-inflicted or not. Still, the nervous, doubting part of him wondered if it was somehow his fault.

Mewtwo nuzzled her wet hair, which had grown cold in the open air as they lingered in the water. _“So, you got your license renewed, huh?”_

“Yup,” Char mumbled tiredly, settling in comfortably against the clone. “Signed off on Yanna’s severance, registered Pluto to the team, wrote in Clover as ‘deceased’... a lot of stupid papers, a lot of waiting in shitty offices and talking to unlikable people. You didn’t miss anything.”

_“What about your doctor’s appointment?”_

Mewtwo regretted asking that, hearing her sigh sadly. The trainer exhaled against the warm, wet fur on his neck. He could feel that dread in the back of her mind growing a little darker, a little colder.

“It went alright. Nothing’s worse, or anything.” Char said curtly, shifting her weight against him to get into a more comfortable position. 

Mewtwo’s ears flicked back, unsatisfied with her answer. Unable to do anything about it, he tried to ignore the sinking feeling that coiled in his gut.


	7. Chapter 7

Char hated goodbyes. She saw them as long, drawn out moments of misery; twisted knives in the wounds of separation that people endured out of etiquette. Just rip the fucking bandage off, don’t make her suffer.

And suffer she did, quietly and sullenly, while the ferry to the outskirts of the Hoenn Islands ran a good thirty minutes late. She and Yanna were both still waking up as the break of dawn began to color the sky. They both hoped that saying goodbye would be as short and sweet as they could manage.

“You haven’t told me to stay out of trouble yet,” Char mumbled into the palm of her hand, hunched over on the metal bench of a ferry terminal.

 **“What’s there to say? I know you won’t.”** Yanna had a tired listlessness underneath his sarcastic tone. He noticed her slumping posture, and carefully smoothed down the back of her old jacket. **“Just so you know, if something happens I’m not sending bail money.”**

Char swatted at the hand on her back, and it was like slapping a brick wall. “You never sent me bail money, you cheap bastard.”

Together, they shared a slightly forced laugh, trying to find levity in the moment. The siblings-in-arms both sighed, and went back to their respective sulking.

Giving Yanna a tentative look, the trainer finally asked what was on her mind. “You think they’re going to give you a hard time for being gone as long as we were?”

The Hariyama let out another rumbling sigh. **“There will be some scolding, and some unspoken shaming, but I believe we’ll all just be happy to see each other again.”**

Char gave him a teasing jab with her elbow. “I’m sure you have a couple of parents that’ll still be on your side.”

Yanna let out a soft _‘hmph’_ , his eyes on the horizon to watch for the arrival of his ship.

It would be another unbearably drawn-out fifteen minutes before the ferry arrived. Its hull was banged and scratched by years of sailing through waters rife with Gyarados and Sharpedo; being a sailor usually meant you’d have to beat back the wild pokemon attracted to boats full of what they perceived as easy prey. Char didn’t envy the seafaring life, having been on the business end of a Sharpedo’s bite before.

When the boat docked and the gangplank was set down, human and pokemon alike could finally depart. The small crowd of overnight passengers was mostly younger trainers, unsurprisingly - it was trainer season, after all. More than a few of them had Makuhita about their age at their side, innocently eager for adventure outside of the colony. New partners, exactly as Char and Yanna were.

Taking a centering breath, Yanna got up from the bench. **“This is where we part, I’m afraid.”**

Leaning on her cane, the trainer rose up, stretched, and yawned. When she could wrest herself from the reflex, the bittersweetness of the moment started to hit her. He was leaving. He was going to get on that boat, and she wasn’t going to see him for another couple months, probably. If she would even be allowed to visit him by a clan that was so distrusting of her.

Fifteen years. Char had traveled with her brother for fifteen years. She hardly gave it any thought, and now she was regretting that. He’d been looking after her through her recovery, through her escape from her old life, through years being in fucking _Kanto_ of all places… She wouldn’t even be here without him, she wouldn’t have even _gotten_ that far alone.

Yanna looked down at her with concern. **“Are you going to be alright?”**

Char silently nodded, and then her face broke into a mask of abject grief.

The Hariyama caught her as her legs gave out, and he held the limp and sobbing woman in his arms for a few more minutes. Nobody around them paid them much heed; this was a sight that wasn’t uncommon. You had to let go of your Hariyama eventually. They had their own lives to get back to, after all. Trainership was only ever temporary, a League-mandated title that fit their honored tradition poorly. She was never his trainer, he was never her pokemon - they were a fucking _family._

Char let out an agonized whine when she could catch her breath, embarrassed and upset with herself for breaking down. The battle-worn body that enveloped her with enormous arms chuckled deeply, the reverberation rattling through her as it always did. Char chuckled with a runny nose too, despite herself.

“Man… this sucks. I hate this.”

Yanna sniffled a bit, catching his breath as he struggled with his own composure. **“I know, I know.”**

The relatively tiny hands that gripped his shoulders briefly dug their fingernails into his unyielding skin, unwilling to let him go. After one more cathartic sob, Char shivered and willed herself to step back.

She badly tried to cover her red, tear-stained face by letting her shaggy hair fall in front of it. Showing emotions in public was making her feel self-conscious and exposed. A meaty finger tilted her chin up, and her brother gave her a sad little smile.

 **“Mind your sire,”** he began, and Char immediately groaned like a scolded child. **“- I’m serious. We both have to prove to our family that we have returned with wisdom and maturity.”**

“Failed step one.” Char murmured bitterly.

**“Look after the cat, as well. This isn’t his world; you need to help him adjust.”**

“Yeah, yeah.”

Two massive hands pinned Char’s arms to her sides, the thumbs resting heavily on her shoulders. Yanna gave her a serious look. **“... And please,** **_please_ ** **promise me you will behave yourself.”**

“Ugh, _yesss_...” Char rolled her eyes.

**“Seriously. Don’t do anything stupid as soon as I board that ship.”**

“Why are you acting like I was going to? I’m not _that_ predictable, am I?” The woman in his grasp burst into a fit of giggles. Yanna smirked very slightly.

**“I know you too well.”**

The sound of the ship’s horn jerked them both back into reality. Yanna drew a ragged breath, and let her go. **“Well, sister, until we meet again. Mother and Father bless you.”**

“Already gettin’ back into the old customs, eh?” Char hid a fresh wave of sadness with a smirk. “Mother n’ Father bless you. Or, well, just the Father, I guess.”

Yanna snorted, and gently ruffled her curly mop of hair. Then, he walked off to board, and the leaden weight of being separated from him could really sink into her gut. Char willed herself to turn away, and she rushed to get off the docks; as far away from any further glimpse of him leaving as she could, lest she be reminded of her grief.

Char felt light-headed as she walked down the Petalburg streets, alone. She wasn’t sure if that was the lingering sadness, or if she was just that unfocused without Yanna around. Something about the sudden loneliness made her feel lost; she almost didn’t do what she planned to do after he left. She almost wrote it off as a fleeting whim, and nearly went back home to catch back up on all the sleep she lost while dreading today.

No, she couldn’t give up on this. Every day she came home to Mewtwo empty-handed, she was failing him. She promised him a better life. She swore a Hoennese oath that she’d make things _work_ this time, settle down, and never have to run again.

And what was getting in her way, money? Fucking _money?_ She wasn’t going to roll over and accept this. She was a _Champion_ , dammit, and she didn't go through what she did to be denied that. She was going to collect her winnings, accolades and trophies, and she was going to _retire._

Steeling herself, Char entered the Petalburg Gym with a fire of determination burning through her grief. She met the clerk at the registry desk with a stony look they were more used to seeing on her father. A mangled hand slapped a trainer’s ID down on the desk.

“I’m here to sign up for the gym circuit.”

* * *

The mist of the early dawn faded under the warm sun of the later morning, and Mewtwo basked in its warmth. He was a morning person, it seemed; it felt like a silly thing to point out about himself, but in a lot of ways he was still figuring out who he was to begin with. He liked to get up early, take Jupiter and Mercury out for a walk, and make breakfast for everyone all before Char could shuffle out of bed. That suited him just fine, and for a while he could say he really had a _routine._

That routine was slightly upset by the presence of Norman, today. Char gave her boys over to Mewtwo to babysit initially, but of course the crotchety gym leader had to assert himself over the psychic. Mewtwo could handle the other pokemon just fine, but Norman acted like the clone had never handled an animal in his life. It was his loss, really; Mewtwo wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Mercury today, anyways.

The Blaziken was all too aware that Yanna was leaving, and Norman scolded his daughter for letting the bird say ‘goodbye’ in the first place. As much of a handful as he was, Mercury was still a chick Char and Yanna essentially raised together, and being separated from another team member made him understandably act out. Norman insisted that Blaziken, unlike other birds, were as dumb as a bag of hammers and barely acknowledged the concept of loss or grief. Mewtwo knew that was a damn lie; Mercury was able to grasp the emotion behind the Hariyama’s goodbyes, and he could certainly pick up when Char was upset. And Char was _upset_ , as much as she hated to express it. Of course Mercury would be, too.

That said, he was glad he was given Jupiter’s lead, instead. The Manectric was a mellow old hound that didn’t really seem to give a shit; something Mewtwo found to be as indicative of the dog’s trainer just as much as Mercury’s fussy behavior was. The clone watched with some amusement as the older man struggled to keep the Blaziken in line, as they went on their morning walk. Norman could put on the same commanding tone as his daughter, but the clone knew it was going to take more than that.

The gym leader cursed gruffly, trying to keep an upset, man-sized cockerel from darting after every falling leaf or flitting shadow on the trail. “Still just as much a pain in the ass since your trainer brought you home. Merc’! _Heel!!”_

The Blaziken would let himself be pulled back into line for maybe a few seconds, before trying to pull away again. Mewtwo wondered if the timing was on purpose, out of spite. Mercury chewed angrily at the heavy-duty, fire-proof lead that kept him from bounding into the woods.

 _“He’s used to being allowed to wander a little when I’d walk him,”_ Mewtwo tried to explain, _“whenever he’d get too far I would just teleport him back.”_

Norman gave him a silencing glare. “The bird _needs_ to be on a leash; he ain’t on the route no more. Can’t have him lunging at any trainer passing by.”

 _“Well, he doesn’t usually lunge unless he feels threatened…”_ Mewtwo took note of the defensive posturing and icy stares of the man. His hackles were raised, and his mind was going over concentration exercises that blocked any passing psychic read. Ah, no wonder Mercury was so on edge around him.

Perhaps if there was ever going to be a good time to point out Norman’s latent fear of the clone’s psychic nature, it would be now. Char wasn’t here, and they were out on the outskirts of town with only each other for company. Mewtwo was still trying to find the words to start this conversation when Mercury gnawed _just_ enough on his leash to make it snap.

 _“Fuck!”_ Norman stumbled backwards from the tension in the lead giving out, and a triumphant Mercury crowed as he vanished into the nearby treeline.

Mewtwo tried not to laugh, he really did. His tail flicked as he fought to keep a straight face. Norman peered into the thick forest they had been skirting around, as if he’d find a flash of orange feathers.

“Shit. You said you could get him, didn’t you? Use Teleport on him?”

Mewtwo raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, and glanced at the treeline. _“I’ll go in and get him. I think he needs a talking-to.”_

“You psy-types may understand any pokemon with a brain, but Blazies sure haven’t got any.” Norman narrowed his eyes at the clone. “G’wan then, if you’re so sure about it.” 

This was it. This was a moment where he could prove he was useful. Mewtwo straightened his posture, puffed out his scrawny chest, and led Jupiter into the woods.

Crossing into the untamed wilderness, Mewtwo felt the very atmosphere change. The warmth of the sun was blotted out by a dark and thick canopy, and the chorus of insects that had provided background noise on the trail picked up in an all-surrounding drone. He was reminded of the off-route woods of Kanto, but nowadays he no longer felt as exposed and vulnerable in nature.

The psychic unhooked Jupiter’s lead, when they were sufficiently out of Norman’s line of sight. _“Alright, buddy. Let’s go get Mercury before he gets stuck in another tree.”_

The Manectric was delighted to be off his leash, and Mewtwo could understand why Mercury was so keen to escape. None of them had been particularly happy under Norman’s house rules. Jupiter was happy to trot at a relaxed pace as he picked up on the scent of his teammate, and Mewtwo simply floated behind, trusting the hound’s sense of smell almost as much as his own psychic perception. It had been so long since he’d been outside - really, truly outside, in nature; not on some maintained route or sanitized walking trail.

Mewtwo was swiftly reminded why he usually didn’t immerse himself in nature when a very large, red worm popped out of the underbrush. Startled, he teleported higher up in the trees. When the clone actually looked down to see what spooked him, he let out a relieved chuckle. At least it wasn’t the worst thing that could try and jump him.

Preying on the moment of vulnerability, a shock of cold dread struck up the spine of the clone. Mewtwo yelped, panic-teleported, and looked around wildly for the source. He was met with a chilly, unpleasant sort of presence; one he had grown accustomed to, because it’s not like the source of it could help being dead.

_“Pluto! For fuck’s sake, how’d you get out again?”_

As if that would do anything at all, Mewtwo reflexively tried to grab at the shadowy, nebulous presence of the Gengar as it sunk back the shadows of the canopy. Pluto had enjoyed travelling freely in Char’s shadow before, and hadn’t taken kindly to their new, domestic lifestyle either. Most of all, they didn’t enjoy being in a pokeball. It felt like the similarly rebellious Char put them in one of those flimsy, cheap standard models on purpose.

 _“You know if Norman catches you we’ll_ **_both_ ** _be in trouble, right?”_ Mewtwo scowled at his own shadow, and hoped he was giving the ghost the stink eye in turn. _“I’m trying to make a good impression here, this isn’t the time for any of your pranks.”_

Pluto probably wasn’t listening, as usual. The Gengar was just intelligent enough to be an asshole on purpose.

Still, Mewtwo kind of appreciated the extra company as he followed Jupiter deeper into the woods. He liked the peaceful solitude of not being around other people, but if he was _truly_ alone… he’d be a little scared at this point. He could feel countless other, minor mental presences around them; insect, animal, the occasional sentient plant. Wild pokemon that belonged in this forest, slowly starting to take notice that he _didn’t._

Jupiter barked further up ahead, and an increasingly jumpy Mewtwo paled at the urgency behind it. He weaved through the brush to catch up, and found the Manectric on alert. The electric hound’s mane was upright and sparking, and he growled at something in the brush. Like it was a threat.

 _“Getting spooked by the bugs too, pal?”_ Mewtwo tried to diffuse the tension mounting around him. As he focused on what exactly Jupiter was staring down, the humid air grew cold.

He thought it was something inert, at first. Like a patch of some fungus he wasn’t familiar with. The little white stalks that clustered around the roots of a tree were topped with mops of drooping green leaves, framing tiny, unopened red buds. As he edged closer for a better look, they wiggled; seemingly awakened by the presence of the pokemon. Jupiter let out another warning yelp as he hesitated, ready to run at a moment's notice. Like these things were going to chase him.

Mewtwo felt the mental feedback of Jupiter’s panic; this was a learned response. He remembered that scent and it had _dreadful_ associations. Gritting his teeth against the inevitable contact-shock, Mewtwo grabbed the dog’s collar to pull him away.

The tiny, sentient plants were uprooting themselves little by little, their root-like feet seemingly stuck in the loam they sprung from. A couple of the largest ones tried to stumble forward, and Mewtwo heard an unmistakable screech from behind him.

Mewtwo instinctively ducked, and Mercury cleanly leaped over him and right at the plants. They didn’t stand a chance against the feverish scratching of the bird’s powerful talons, as he tore into the patch like he had been ordered to kill. It was almost unfair. Mewtwo likened them to clumsy, small children. Now, they were shredded, crushed plant matter on ruined ground.

Mercury trilled at Mewtwo, in the tone the clone recognized as him acknowledging his own accomplishment, in the vein of winning a battle. Mercury just did something Char usually praised him for. It would have been rude of Mewtwo not to do the same, of course. He patted the feathers of the fighting cockerel in a nervous, bewildered manner.

_“... Good boy.”_

Norman checked his watch, awkwardly standing where Mewtwo had left him. A few minutes more and he’d probably go ahead and leave him, but he would be abandoning Charlotte’s other pokemon, too. He couldn’t do that to her.

A filthy Blaziken with leaves in his feathers and mud on his beak burst through the treeline, and Norman let out a sigh of relief. “‘Bout damn time.”

Mewtwo followed behind him with a leashed Jupiter, looking paler than usual. He tried to regain his composure by smoothing down the fluffed-up fur of his tail. _“Sorry about that… Mercury was, um, hunting some kind of plant type.”_

“Plant type?”

 _“Well, it was a plant, at least.”_ Mewtwo shrugged. He didn’t really understand the League’s notion of ‘typing’, where sometimes the actual biology (or lack thereof) was ignored. _“It was weird, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry at something that looked so… harmless.”_

Something about what Mewtwo said made Norman raise an inquisitive eyebrow. The older man cleared his throat, and looked the clone in the eye. “Green leaves, white stems?”

Mewtwo’s ears perked up in acknowledgment. _“Yes… little red flower buds, too. They only looked vaguely sentient.”_

Norman sighed, his gaze casting over what lay in the shadows beyond the treeline. Whatever dark and foreboding feelings that enkindled in him, Mewtwo couldn’t parse through the purposeful block. “The Ralts are in season. You should stay away from ‘em.”

The man left it at that, grabbing Mercury firmly by the harness and walking him down the trail. Mewtwo was left to give the forest his own, uneasy glance.

* * *

The 2025 badge case was a sleek sleeve design, with an Ever Grande League icon that was almost recognizable after years of branding updates. The slots for the badges were smaller too, but that may have been because Char was just bigger now.

The complimentary badge case came with an array of pamphlets and rookie guides. An official trainer’s PokeNav 2k was installed with apps for maps of the routes and guides to local pokemon catching areas. It was all way more straightforward than what she ever experienced as a trainer. As the first generation of child rookies when the age limit was lowered, Char and her peers were basically test subjects that the League would later revise their methods around. Realizing this made her feel… expendable.

Back in her day, training was meant for older teens that could handle themselves. No amount of the League ‘preparing’ the routes could have made their choice to rope kids into the hype of training _safe;_ training was always an adult hobby. The Elite Four Challenge was meant to be faced by an adult with years of experience behind their team. The Hariyama expected to trust their adventuring youths with older, mature human peers that would look after them. Nowadays, the League put a fresh coat of brightly-colored paint on their professional battling division and marketed it to the broadest, most enthusiastic audience they could.

Char wondered how much had really changed, on the routes. Well, she would get to see that soon, wouldn’t she?

The sound of the front door opening made her scramble to hide the most damning evidence of her decision. Her father entered, three pokeballs in hand, and found her sitting rather conspicuously on the couch.

“Your goddamn ghost slipped out again, and Mercury needs a bath.” Norman promptly returned his daughter’s team. Char held the balls in her hands for a moment, lingering on her thoughts. Still processing how she was going to explain her decision.

Mewtwo floated in with a broken lead in his hand. _“Um, Mercury chewed through another leash…”_

“ _Again?_ Son of a bitch. We’re gonna have to go up to ‘rhydon-strength’, I guess.” Another thirty-dollar leash was thrown in the garbage. At least on the route, she probably wouldn’t need one…

When Mewtwo sat down next to her, he heard and felt a soft crunch. Char paled as he froze, and fished under the couch cushion to draw out a now-dented, brand new badge case. _“What’s this?”_

He narrowed his eyes at the fear on her face. Char grimaced, looking around nervously as if she’d somehow find an excuse written in the wallpaper.

“Uh, yeah, about that… it’s a good thing you’re sittin’ down for this one.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: breakdowns, violence, suicide/ ideation mentions, generally heavy stuff

Flipping to a random page in their book, Addie traced a blunt finger down a list. They hummed thoughtfully with a soft, trilling purr as they considered the result. _“Hmm… how does ‘Jeanette’ sound?”_

They looked up for some reaction from their roommate. Nico was busy at a small laptop he brought with him, flicking an ear in acknowledgment. _“I’d say that’s about a six.”_

Nodding earnestly, the other clone flipped to another random page. _“How ‘bout... ‘Melanie’?”_

Nico’s cropped whiskers twitched as his upper lip curled in distaste. _“That’s a three.”_

_“Really? What’s wrong with it?”_

_“You can just do better, I feel.”_ The Alakazam looked over to where the other clone lounged on their side of the room, in a garbage nest of their making. _“You’re going to be here all year trying to run all these by me, and frankly I wouldn’t take naming advice from a guy called ‘Nicodemus’.”_

 _“I like your name,”_ Addie frowned, _“it sounds… confident. Regal, almost.”_

Nico snorted like they told him a joke. _“Exactly. It’s like they gave me and my brothers names specifically to embarrass us for the rest of our lives.”_

 _“At least you_ **_got_ ** _names.”_ Addie sneered back at him, and buried their face back in their book. Nico gave them another sideways glance, noting the frustrated swish of their tail and the restless wiggling of their back paws. Being cooped up in the room for too long at a time was agony for the clone, who’s energy levels were more suited to the combat they were made for. When they weren’t fidgeting, pacing or literally climbing the walls, they were eating to keep up with the demands of their high metabolism.

 _"I dunno…"_ the clone grumbled with dissatisfaction, taking to flipping the pages just for the tactile fluttering sensation. _"What do you think would be nice?"_

 _"You've asked me that before,"_ Nico pointed out wearily, _"and frankly, I think 'Addie' is just fine."_

_"That's not a name though, isn't it? I thought it was just you trying not to say 'Adversary'."_

_"No? Addie's a name. Look it up."_

Addie's ears perked up in interest, and they began to feverishly scour the A's section of their book. Nico observed their dawning surprise; the way their eyes went from suspicious slits to round saucers, how their restless movements reached a pitch that had their toes kneading at the bedspread. 

_"'Addie is a diminutive of names containing similar syllables such as Addison, Adelaide, or Adeline.'"_

Addie paused, and blinked. The momentum of their excitement came to a silent halt, leaving Nico to wonder what exactly about that sentence struck them. The dumbstruck surprise in their big eyes tapered into a confused squint. The Kazam didn't need to read their mind to tell what they were probably thinking. _Am I any of these?_

He figured that he had already intervened enough in their nonlinear journey towards a solid identity. The last thing Nico wanted was for them to get _too_ dependent on him; he could barely take care of his damn self. The only responsibility he was tentatively qualified for was his dog. Besides, this was firmly out of his wheelhouse. He had a name, he had a sense of self, he had already come to terms with who he was long ago, even if fairly recent events had to make him reassess his priorities. He could only imagine what kind of fresh hell this must be for his fellow clone. To have a world of options and opportunities to reinvent yourself, but be stuck stalled in the limbo of nothing feeling _right._

Finally, Addie gave Nico a conflicted, hesitant look. The faith they placed on him felt like a leaden weight on his back. _"Do I look like an Adeline to you?"_

How was he supposed to answer that? He genuinely didn't know, outside of a shrug to convey his neutral stance. _"I guess… why do you prefer that over the other options there?"_

The other clone seemed to shrink, dwarfed by the enormity of their decision. _"I don't know… I just think it's pretty."_

 _"Well, that's a fair reason,"_ Nico admitted. _"Perhaps Addie can be short for Adeline, and not ‘Adversary’."_

Addie… Adeline? Looked back at their options in the book in quiet contemplation, and the stillness of their body ended up short-lived. The grip their blunt fingers had on the pages began to tense. The flicking of their tail was a blur rippling the hem of their dress as anxiety mounted. Nico kept one eye on them, and one eye on a crack that remained in one of the windows from the last time they got overwhelmed.

 _“I’m going to do a lap around the boat again!”_ Addie announced rather hastily. They rolled off the bed with all the hurriedness of someone rushing to go break down in solitude. Nico couldn’t even give them a sardonic _‘have fun’,_ before they were already jumping off the balcony. Off to wear out some of their overabundance of energy by flying around the cruise liner close to the water, hopefully away from prying eyes.

The room had an empty sort of quietness to it with their absence. Nico couldn’t quite pin down the subtle sort of background noise their psychic presence conveyed, when they didn’t actively suppress it. It filled the room wherever they went, whatever it was. Without it, Nico could get some peace, so he took the opportunity to see if his brother responded.

The League agents under Methuselah provided him with contact information for further instructions. Nico wasn’t looking forward to having to interact with the other Alakazam more than he already had to. Though he was less afraid of the oppressive tactics of the organization that Methuselah was a part of, and more afraid of the innate awkwardness of reuniting with his estranged family.

Opening the email chain, he read the previous conversation reluctantly.

To: M.Argos@BPDRC.league  
From: No.Noneofyourbusiness@pokemail.com  
Subject: Okay what now  
Going by boat through a cruise route, just give me a couple weeks. Are we using code terms or anything? Because I’m rather tired of this clandestine criminal code bullshit. Just tell me where to go.

To: No.Noneofyourbusiness@pokemail.com  
From: M.Argos@BPDRC.lg  
Subject: re: Okay what now  
This is a secure line, so no cloak and dagger is necessary. As long as you arrive within the next six weeks, the method of your journey is unimportant. My associate will meet you in the Ever Grande Conference Hall and provide further instructions upon arrival.

To: M.Argos@BPDRC.league  
From: No.Noneofyourbusiness@pokemail.com  
Subject: re:re:Okay what now  
What are you going to do when you have them? Don’t make me regret this, you saw what they did to Gio. Or didn’t, since there was nothing left of him in the end.

To: No.Noneofyourbusiness@pokemail.com  
From: M.Argos@BPDRC.lg  
Subject: re:re:re: Okay what now  
Relax. It shouldn’t be anything worse than what we’ve been put through before.

Nico felt like he should have seen that final reply coming, what with the urban myth of Kazam future sight and all that. With a heavy sigh, the Alakazam glared hard at the screen before starting to type furiously.

_Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell me you were okay? Why didn’t you intervene? Why didn’t you SAVE m-_

His breath hitching, Nico seemed to catch himself. He quickly held down the backspace key to undo all he had written. Those questions would be better asked later, in person. If he could handle that. With all _that_ gotten out of his system for now, he could go back to the more banal issue of _‘should I respond or is this conversation over?’_ Which was debatably just as difficult.

Thank Arceus, he was jolted back into reality by the balcony door slamming open. A soaking wet, panting, wild-eyed clone held onto the doorframe to keep themself on their wobbly legs. 

_“MY NAME IS ADELINE, NOW!”_

Their declaration was loud and clear. Too loud and clear. Nico reflexively winced, but still gave them an awkward thumbs up. _“Congratulations… why are you wet?”_

 _“Ocean.”_ Adeline managed to say, before they staggered over to their bed to collapse in a heap. _“I had to scream, but you told me not to explode where humans could hear it.”_

 _“Well, I guess it’s better to just confuse the marine life, instead.”_ Nico was grateful they _tried_ to keep their outbursts contained while they were still technically hiding. Having to explode once in a while had to be marginally better than internalizing all of it into a tight knot of compulsive self-destruction, as he did.

 _"Do you think it fits?"_ Addie lifted their head from their nest, looking at the Kazam with pleading eyes.

 _"Uh,"_ Nico stared at them blankly, put on the spot. _"It's fine, if you ask me. It's... pretty. It fits the look you seem to be going for, I guess."_

Rolling over to stare at the stucco ceiling, they considered his words with a serious expression. Nico fidgeted with his mane, carefully choosing his words. _"You can always change it later, you know."_

 _"Is everything regarding identity that easily replaced?"_ Adeline mused, perhaps to no one in particular.

_"It's not as solid as you think it is. People change over time, whether they know it or not."_

One of the clone’s short ears flicked. _"Have_ **_you_ ** _changed?"_

Nico scoffed, but his ears went pink from the directness in their question. _"Well, obviously I am not the man Giovanni tried to make out of me. Maybe I'm not perfectly reformed, but I'm penitent, and I don't want to hurt people like I had to under him."_

Adeline nodded, eyes still focused elsewhere. _“Me neither.”_

 _“So,”_ Nico tried to steer the conversation off of him as quickly as he could, _“We’re going to be heading into port, soon. What are you going to do with… all this?”_

He gestured at the pile of pilfered items on the other clone’s bed. Addie looked around their trash nest, sizing it up.

_“Oh… I’m just going to put it away in the cave.”_

_“Seriously? We are not lugging all this crap around with us.”_ Nico sneered. Addie ignored him, and stood over the pile with a determined look.

_“I’ll take it over right now.”_

Holding their hands out, the ripple of palpable psychic energy they generated at a moment’s notice rattled through the Alakazam’s bones. The lights in the room flickered, and the hoard on the bed glowed dangerously for a moment before disappearing entirely. Addie let out the breath they were holding, and made a show of wiping their hands and dusting themself off, as if the act was physically demanding at all.

Nico’s mouth was agape. _“Did you just…”_

Addie grinned at his surprise _“I sent it home, like I said!”_

 _“_ **_Thousands_ ** _of miles away?”_

_“...Yes? What, can’t you do that?”_

_“No?!”_ Nico’s telepathy rose an octave as he gawked at the now clean, junk-free bed. _“What, so you can teleport objects from that far away, like it's nothing?”_

 _“What, like it’s hard?”_ Adeline just tittered. _“Wait - hold on.”_

Nico watched, dumbfounded, as Addie disappeared in front of him. The seconds ticked by.

With barely a sound, Addie returned with a dry dress and a fresh hat, as naturally as can be. Now they were just showing off.

The novelty quickly wore off for Nico, as a realization hit him. _“Wait - don’t tell me you’ve had the ability to simply teleport halfway across the world on a whim this entire time. Why am I escorting you in the first place?”_

 _“Well, it’s harder to teleport somewhere I haven’t been, obviously.”_ Addie laughed off the increasingly livid look on his face. _“Besides… isn’t this fun? Going on an adventure with no humans to tell us what to do, enjoying this ‘free will’ I’ve heard so much about, finally seeing the world I wasn’t allowed to experience before…”_

The clone sighed wistfully, and twirled to enjoy the simple pleasure of their skirt swishing around them. Nico looked unamused with the flighty response.

_“Adds’, we’ve been stuck in this tiny room getting on each other’s nerves all week. This is more along the lines of psychological torture than an adventure.”_

Adeline would have countered that, had the sudden blaring of the intercom chime didn’t make them yelp and disappear.

A practiced and lilting voice reminded everyone that the ship would be heading to port within the next several hours, but still made time to mention the on-board casino, should one ever want to spend even _more_ money while they waited.

Nico had also flinched from the sudden alert, going so far as to briefly cower like he was expecting to be struck before he could remember himself, embarrassed. He gruffly straightened out his composure, and Addie opened the balcony door to poke their head in.

_“What the fuck was that?!”_

_“We’re here. Finally.”_ Nico’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he began getting his shit together in a much less impressive way than his roommate did. _“C’mon, we don’t need to wait to dock like the humans do. Let’s get this business of yours over with.”_

* * *

As soon as Addie landed on the shore, they immediately lifted their paws to investigate the texture of the soft, damp sand beneath their feet. They made odd footprints that Nico hoped were too out of the way to be conspicuous. The clone acted like they’d never even seen a beach before, and they probably hadn’t.

Addie squished their toes into fluffier, drier sand beyond the barrier of detritus outside the reach of the tide. They were unabashedly having a blast. _“Nico, this is amazing! Have you ever felt this before?”_

Nico pointedly hovered a few inches away from the ground, his toes curled to keep from touching it and everything. _“Yes. And it’s absolutely hellish to wash out of fur, so forgive me if I don’t also indulge.”_

Addie kicked a bit of sand at him, and laughed when he tried to dodge the halfhearted attack. The Alakazam hastily tried to shake what little bit got into the fringe of dark fur along his legs.

 _“If you had to use twenty bottles of hotel shampoo every time_ **_you_ ** _took a bath, I think you’d be a little careful too!”_

Nico sighed in exasperation as he watched the easily distracted clone turn their attention further inland, exploring the untamed jungle that lay beyond the beach. Keeping them on task was going to be harder than what they set out to do in the first place. _“So, what’s next on the plan? You did have a plan for whatever it was that you wanted to do, right?”_

Addie paused, and looked up from the colorful flowers they were admiring. _“If I tell you, you’ll just try to stop me.”_

_“You’re certainly not helping your case.”_

_“This isn’t your problem,”_ Addie straightened up to look him in the eye. The wonderment in their eyes dimmed into grim determination. _“You helped me stay grounded while I got to this point, and that’s all I really needed. But now that I’m here, I want to do what I have to do without you interrupting me and lecturing me.”_

 _“I don’t_ **_‘lecture’_ ** _you,”_ Nico countered, and bristled in offense when he realized he was about to do exactly that. _“...However, I at least want to know what you plan on doing, here. You’re not about to do something stupid, are you?”_

Addie resumed wandering inland at a more determined pace, seemingly ignoring him. Nico huffed irritably as he floated over to catch up. He compared the other clone’s stubborn attitude to his Growlithe before, but even Diogenes at least _listened_ to him. Then again, as someone who lived a life taking orders up until now, could he even blame them?

 _"Adeline, stop and fucking_ **_talk_ ** _to me for once-"_

 _"Just because you know my name now doesn't mean you can use it against me!"_ Addie whipped around to snarl at him, and Nico floated a step backwards, the wind taken out of his sails in one fell swoop.

_"I'm trying to help you, dammit, and that means you need to actually tell me what is so important to you here!"_

Addie averted their gaze from his scolding tone. _"You'll try to stop me. And when you do… I don't want to have to do anything to you to get you out of my way."_

The words were cold and intimidating, but they were said with such a soft, regretful voice. Nico squared his shoulders, and doubled down with a more even tone.

 _"I won't stop you. If you're doing something messy... I understand. I would just like to be there and minimize whatever collateral damage you end up doing, but you'll need to_ **_tell_ ** _me what plan you have, if at all."_

Addie gave him a quietly suspicious look. He couldn't blame them; he _was_ suspicious. He wouldn’t trust him, in their situation.

After a moment's consideration, the hairless clone seamlessly shifted from the cold-eyed, brutal Adversary to the wide-eyed, almost vacuous kitten look of Adeline that Nico had become familiar with.

_"Can I tell you after lunch? I'm hungry."_

Nico's ear flicked, and he cracked a smile in spite of himself.

_"Alright, fine. No scheming on an empty stomach."_

* * *

Heahea, the city the cruise liner docked at, was an innocuous, bright and bustling tourist destination; a place carefully curated to be an ideal vacation spot. The humans and pokemon of Heahea City were blissfully unaware of their presence for the most part, thankfully. Once in a while Nico would bristle when he felt the probing of another psychic, drawn to their powerful signatures; urban Kazam and the native Oranguru were also living their lives just out of reach of humans, so they had no reason to bother them. At best, they took one proverbial look at Addie’s strange presence, and bolted.

Nico had half a mind to ask for directions from the other sapients, but it wasn’t just the company he kept that spooked them. He was pretty jarring to behold, himself. Feeling the notes of fear and alarm in the signatures of local Kazam was just another bitter aspect of his life that would never change. 

It was mid afternoon when they stopped to loiter on the roof of a mall for lunch. The food court could be seen through the skylight they hovered around, making for a symbolic illustration of their relationship with humanity by having them literally be on the outside looking in. With humans swarming the hall like ants and vendors at all walls, there were few blind spots to take advantage of. Remaining unnoticed was going to be much harder this time around.

Addie, hungry and impatient, couldn’t care less about the risk. They teleported a tray right out of someone’s hands, to Nico’s horror, and ate happily as he frantically tried to erase the offending memory from the victim’s mind.

 _“_ **_Please_ ** _be more careful!”_

_“What? Isn’t it your job, anyways?”_

_“I don’t exactly_ **_like_ ** _having to do it.”_ Nico sighed, scanning the peripherals of the minds in the crowd, trying to see if there was any more evidence that needed to be erased. He withdrew when the sheer volume of people and their noisy, constant thoughts began to grate on him.

Addie held a flimsy plastic knife awkwardly in their inhuman hand as they ate, not actually using it while they floated food up to their mouth. _“Well, it’s not like you’re doing enough of it to hurt them, isn’t it? It’s just like… a few seconds worth of their memory.”_

 _“It’s still not pleasant work. For both parties.”_ Nico made a much more calculated, much more subtle heist on a carton of carry-out that the servers took their attention off of. No sooner than he teleported his meal into his hands did the human that purchased it come up to the counter, confused, because as far as they knew they were just called to retrieve their food.

 _“My memory is a Kazam’s, after all. I don’t forget anything I’ve read from other’s minds. I_ **_can’t_ ** _forget them. I’ve had to internalize many terrible things while under Giovanni’s thumb, and all I can do is compartmentalize it and hope nothing triggers it to resurface.”_

The other clone tilted their head curiously, chewing. _“Is my memory like that?”_

Nico squinted at the strange question. _“I don’t know,_ **_is_ ** _it?”_

 _“I dunno! There’s a lot of things I can’t quite remember but I wish I could, like…”_ Addie trailed off there, eyes staring distantly as they swallowed. Trying to search for whatever it was brought a somber look to their eyes. _“... Nevermind. Maybe I don’t want to remember it. That’s gotta be the reason.”_

_“If only it were that simple.”_

Addie sighed, contemplating their food for a moment before setting the tray down, unsatisfied. They went back to the skylight to size up a different acquisition, and Nico prepared to rush another impromptu wipe. They scanned the lunch rush crowd below them like they were observing Magikarp in a barrel.

The hairless clone's eyes went wide and dark from their prey coming into view. A shock of anticipation crackled in the air between them, their temper instantly rising. They pointed accusingly down at a seemingly random head in the crowd.

 _"Finally! One of_ **_those_ ** _bastards!"_

Nico had not prepared himself for Addie to blink a whole goddamn human onto the roof, and the sudden appearance spooked him; though obviously not as much as it did Addie's victim. The young man clad in a pristinely white uniform let out a startled sound, suspended in the air a few feet before collapsing in a heap on the roof.

 _"Nico!"_ Addie turned their attention to the Alakazam, _"I need his information. Get everything you know about the Aether Paradise out of him."_

Nico bristled at the tone of their telepathy, bordering so close on a command that he would have heard from Giovanni. _"Wh- no! I've already told you my stance on that kind of work! No more!"_

Addie looked like they were about to argue; balling their mutilated fists and puffing out their scrawny chest, when a groan from the human made their eyes go cold again.

_“Fine. I’ll do it, then.”_

If Nico was a braver man, maybe he could have done something stupidly heroic, like put himself between them and the hapless human they plucked out of the normal world below them. Maybe he would have had the right words to say to defuse the situation. Maybe if he wasn’t so dead-set on this penitence bullshit, he would have just swallowed his pride and done the dirty work for them in the first place. It would have probably been less messy in the hands of someone versed in this skill.

Addie was _not_ versed in this skill. When they splayed their blunt fingers and squeezed the air in front of them, the uniformed human seized as though shocked by an electric current. His eyes rolled back into his head as he twitched, a rivulet of fresh blood running from his nose to drip from his chin as the painful, intrusive psychic force dug through the folds of his brain.

Nico winced in sympathy, and put the man’s body in a psychic hold to keep him from cracking his head on the floor when the other clone was through with him. Addie glared hatefully at the human that they essentially tortured.

_“I got the location I needed.”_

_“I’m sure you also got their personal information, their childhood, and every goddamn daydream they’ve ever had.”_ Nico sneered at them as he gave the victim a much more delicate once-over. _“This sort of recklessness gives people brain damage, you know! I thought you didn’t want to get more blood on your hands?”_

 _“I’ll get as much blood on my hands as I have to.”_ Adeline straightened up, meeting his accusatory stare. _“He's still alive, isn't he?"_

 _"Debatably,"_ the alakazam knelt at the side of the unconscious victim, and wiped the line of congealing blood from their face. It wouldn't have been the first time he had to do it; having to check the pulse and mental activity of a victim that Giovanni made him go too far with. Or worse, one that he allowed himself to hurt on purpose.

 _"Adeline… I'm going to put this guy somewhere where people will find him, and after that we are going to have a_ **_fucking talk._ ** _"_

 _"No we're not."_ Addie countered quickly. They didn't do more than step back to telegraph what they were about to do, and even then, Nico couldn't stop them from teleporting away from the scene of the crime.

* * *

Nico was beginning to describe himself as _'long-suffering'_ , the deeper and deeper he was getting into this mess of a mission. If he knew what's good for him, maybe he would have cut his losses, bailed, and offered to help Charlotte fight off his brother. But, he didn't. He knew he would not only be dooming these poor islands to be terrorized by a maddened Legendary, but be dooming this traumatized idiot to spiral into self destruction, as well.

Well, there was only room enough for one self-destructive clone on this island, so one of them was going to have to get their shit together.

He was surprised that Addie allowed themself to be easy to track, all things considered. They had every ability to mask the power behind their presence, after all. Nico didn't count out the possibility that they wanted to be stopped; it was easier to have someone do the dirty work of intervention for you. He wasn't even sure if they _could_ stop themself, for that matter. Giovanni didn't exactly make his tools with an off switch.

Nico judged that they were staring in the direction of the Aether Foundation’s base, as they looked out over the horizon. On the empty beach, Addie stood close enough to the surf for the water to gently wash over their feet with each wave. The cool breeze from off the ocean made their dress flutter, and they held onto their hat habitually. Their head turned minutely towards him.

_"I told you you'd stop me."_

_"You're not giving me a case for an alternative."_ At this point, Nico sounded as exhausted as he felt. He wasn't sure if it was physical, psychic, or existential.

 _"_ **_You're_ ** _not giving me a case to trust you."_ Addie cast a suspicious, slightly hurt look over their shoulder.

Nico felt like pulling out his mane by the handful at this point, tired and frustrated but most of all fucking _scared_ of saying the wrong thing.

 _"Adeline… I_ **_get_ ** _it. You're ready to throw your life away to bring a bit of justice back to your world. This has to do with the rewind, right? And everything you did?"_

Addie stared hard at the soft, wet sand under their feet, their toes sinking into it once more to obtain that tactile, grounding stimulation.

_“You know how Giovanni got here in the first place, right? And everything that happened before then?”_

Nico nodded. _“I’ve gleaned the jist of it from the memories of others, yes.”_

 _“He used the Aether Foundation’s technology to open that portal. He used to talk about all these hypotheticals for when there was nothing left to conquer, the idea that there were infinite worlds like ours meant there were infinite worlds to rule.”_ Addie sneered at nothing, the memory of that man making their blood boil. _“He was out of control.”_

 _“He was wrong,”_ Nico noted. _“The portal technology they used didn’t work like they expected it to. Cyrus theorized that they briefly ducked into the Distortion World, instead.”_

 _“And if there are other worlds, wouldn’t there be one where it_ **_did_ ** _work like it was supposed to?”_ Addie looked up at him with wide eyes. _“How many versions of him simply destroyed their own worlds, and moved on to the next ones? How many versions of me did he control?”_

 _“Adeline, you’re getting ahead of yourself, here.”_ Nico reassured, however weakly. _“Even if the concept of a ‘multiverse’ is real, there’s no sense in worrying about the fate of other worlds you aren’t a part of. He’s dead in this one, isn’t he? It’s over. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”_

 _“He’s dead, but I don’t_ **_feel_ ** _any better!”_ Addie’s voice rose and distorted with emotion, pausing to shake and grimace as the psychic energy around them crackled. _“I want to kill him_ **_again!_ ** _I want to keep killing him until I feel better! I’m going to go to every world he’s in and pick him off until he’s erased from the fabric of existence!!”_

Nico realized then that the very power they possessed must have been painful for them in itself; watching them clutch their skull in agony from the fluctuation caused by getting worked up. The sand around them was kicked up in a perfect circle, buffeted by a pulse of barely-stifled energy that ruffled the Kazam’s fur.

 _“I-I want… I want to find every one of those Dominion bastards in every world they were ever in -”_ Addie winced, increasingly uneasy on their feet as their muscles tensed under the strain of the psychic surge. _“-I want to make sure none of them survive, in every last instance of the universe!”_

Nico felt like a man deciding to dive onto a grenade at the last second. No time to think, no time to consider his own safety. He stepped into the aura of chaotic power they possessed, and grabbed their wiry arm as if he could pull them back into reality. _“Addie,_ **_listen_ ** _. It doesn’t matter how many times he dies, it won’t fix what he did to you.”_

Like an electric shock, psy-power traveled up his arm and set his nerves on fire. Adeline’s eyes managed to look equal parts blank and furious, their telepathy taking on a tone that he remembered from Fuji’s nightmares.

**_“No, but it’ll feel good, won’t it?”_ **

_“I - y-yes,”_ Nico stammered, doing everything in his power to stand his ground. _“But that feeling isn’t going to last, even if you keep doing it ad infinitum. I knew someone who ruined their life trying to chase that high, It’s not_ **_worth_ ** _it!”_

The pins and needles sensation burning through his arm became too much to bear, but Nico let go only to grab onto them with his other hand, maintaining contact. Despite the pain, he sought a connection to the sensory hell that their psychic presence became, attempting to find some semblance of the individual underneath. _“Adeline, please, you’ve worked so hard to not be the monster he made you anymore. Giving into this desire will prove him right.”_

They sniffled a little, and another, weaker wave of energy washed over him. He was getting somewhere. It had been a hot minute since he had to deal with someone else’s breakdown on this level; the fact that it was so psychically charged made him almost miss the simple sobbing of a human having flashbacks, instead. Wincing from every movement it took, he brushed a tear from the other clone’s cheek.

_“L-look, let’s just - let’s just do something constructive with all that destructive energy, alright? That Aether place, if they still have that technology, we should make sure it never falls into the wrong hands again. D-does that sound good?”_

His offer was pathetic, compared to the grandeur of Addie’s plans of infinite catharsis. Offering a distraction was about all he could do. Addie’s face broke into a pained grimace, trying to contain themself and their power as they staggered backwards from the Kazam. The sounds they made gave the impression that they were fighting with themself, and they very likely were.

Nico’s heart dropped, watching them look fearfully at him for a moment. The life came back to their eyes just long enough for them to vanish into thin air.

Nico stared at where they were in stunned silence for a few seconds, when a splash behind him made him spin around. Some several hundred feet into the sea, it looked like a bomb went off underwater. Depending on how one saw Adeline, it might as well have been.

The ground trembled, barely noticed by the levitating Alakazam but enough to make the palm trees shake. A large wave kicked up from the force of the psychic burst, tall enough that Nico opted to teleport to a safer distance; reappearing above the trees to dodge the possibility of getting wet. In the distance, he watched a waterlogged Addie glumly float back to shore. The sea still churned from their unleashed power.

The dripping, shivering clone in their soaked dress looked exhausted, and a little embarrassed. They looked away from the Kazam shyly.

_“Sorry I exploded again…”_

Nico’s shoulders sagged heavily in relief, and he gave them a slightly harried smile. _“It’s okay. It happens to the best of us.”_

* * *

The rest of the day was spent taking it easy, for both of their sakes. The psychic effects on Nico’s nerve endings where he dared to touch the other clone during their episode tapered off into an uncomfortable ache in his hands. He compared it to an attack like a psywave; it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but there didn’t seem to be any lasting damage. Adeline was simply fatigued from the strain their own power put on them. A fragile vessel, nearly broken by the power of the soul contained within.

The aftermath of Addie's breakdown had unfortunately affected Heahea City as well; a tsunami warning had been called into effect, following the impact they let loose in the safety of the ocean. While there wasn't a wave of that magnitude in the end, an evacuation was still called, and the two psychics got to watch the streets within the hazard zone empty. The weight of what they had done was really starting to sink in for Addie, finally. Nico didn't like to see it, but it was necessary.

At the empty waterfront, it was a surreal experience to travel out in the open in broad daylight. Addie couldn't even enjoy being able to admire the window displays of the shops up close. Nico felt like an asshole, more so than usual. Yeah, maybe they needed to stew a bit in their own guilt after their behavior today, but he didn't _like_ that it had to come to that.

Looking through the posh window dressings of stores now vacant, Nico could find what he had in mind on one of the mannequins. He presented them with a wide brimmed, fancy sun hat. The kind he knew they had a fondness for. They had lost their last one somewhere between torturing a human psychically and setting off an evacuation, so he figured this kind of peace offering was a start.

_"Look, I'm just glad you got out of that in one piece. It’s rough going forward, I understand. I’m not going to hold it against you.”_

Addie gave the gift a dull look. _“No you don’t.”_

 _“I don’t need to have called the wrath of Arceus down on the world to understand what it’s like to make up for being a monster.”_ Nico doubled down on offering the hat, and the other clone begrudgingly took it.

Addie adjusted the brim, and glanced at their reflection in the window. Their expression turned sour again, as they averted their eyes.

_“Do you think I’m a monster?”_

_“Of course not,”_ Nico objected, _“you’re a victim. A survivor, even. You survived everything that’s happened to you thus far; of_ **_course_ ** _you’re going to be angry, of_ **_course_ ** _you’re going to lash out. What matters is that you don’t let it control you. Becoming a beacon of destruction for yourself may be better than doing it under the control of others, but it's still destroying things, in the end.”_

A bit of that light returned to their eyes, looking up at him from under their hat. Addie gently nodded, approving of his words.

_“I don’t think you get it, still. But that’s okay, I don’t expect you to. You have a life, after all, and I don’t.”_

_“Yes you do.”_

_“This isn’t your problem,”_ they insisted to him once more, _“I was going to travel to this place regardless of you escorting me or not. I didn’t have a plan beyond what I desired, because I didn’t plan to exist after achieving it._ **_That’s_ ** _why I didn't want to tell you.”_

Nico’s posture sagged with a sigh. _“Yeah, I know.”_

He slumped into a seat on a public bench that faced the docks, and the other clone followed suit. The seabirds were starting to come back to the area, after being momentarily spooked off by the tsunami false alarm. He was sure that the humans would soon follow, but for now… he needed to rest.

_“So, now that I’ve put a damper on your apparent suicide mission, what do you intend to do now?”_

Addie looked out over the perfectly straight line that the distant horizon made over the ocean with a growing, resentful scowl. _“I’m still gonna fuck ‘em up.”_

_“Fair, I guess. Wouldn’t want that technology to fall into the wrong hands again.”_

_“I don’t know what else.”_ Addie’s gaze cast downward, and they contemplated the scars on their fingertips. _“Is this just what life is, just not knowing what’s going to happen or what you’re going to do next?”_

Nico tried not to smile at that, knowing they were asking earnestly. He gave them a sad, sympathetic shrug in response. _“Well, more or less. There’s people out there who have more of an idea, but they’re usually just doing what other people tell them what the correct kind of life is. We don’t have that kind of option.”_

Addie let out a soft sigh, and slouched against the uncomfortable back of the bench. _“Why are you so patient with me?”_

 _“Well,”_ Nico considered his words carefully, unsure of what to admit to them, _“I have… experience with someone who has been consumed by revenge and pain. Someone I cared about and tried to help, at one point.”_

Addie’s eyes lit up, like a lightbulb clicked on in their head. _“That girl you keep thinking about!”_

Nico froze at that, his hand clenching the armrest beside him. _“I… yes. That would be her. Please don’t read me without permission...”_

 _“Sorry, you’re just always thinking about her. Especially when you sleep.”_ The other clone broke into a mischievous grin, and giggled at his reaction. The flustered Kazam busied his nervous hands with preening his fur, looking pointedly away from them.

 _“That would be my_ **_ex_ ** _, thank you very much. Now, can we talk about literally anything else?”_

_“Okay. What’s an ex?”_

Nico grumbled in response. He should have seen that one coming. _“It’s… someone that you were in a relationship with in the past, but for whatever reason the two of you split up."_

Addie nodded animatedly. They seemed to already be cheering up through teasing him, and maybe that was a fair tradeoff at his expense. _“Oh, so does that make Giovanni_ **_our_ ** _ex?”_

Nico visibly shuddered at the unintended implication behind their words. Perhaps he needed to start being more precise when explaining things to them.

_“I mean… you’re not wrong, but let’s not use that word for him ever again, shall we?”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: memory loss, mental illness stuff

Mewtwo took to pacing around Char’s room to expend a burst of anxious energy, processing everything he just learned. Char was ignoring him to pack her things, stuffing some essentials into her worn-out old duffle bag. She was packing to travel alone.

 _“This can’t be your only choice, right?”_ The clone pleaded, again, to a woman he knew he couldn’t get to budge when she set her mind on something. _“I mean, I don’t like living with your father either, but this is just-”_

“Ain’t ‘cos of my dad,” Char gruffly answered him, finally. “This is a ‘me’ thing, alright? I’m not going to be able to get over this until I face it down one more time.”

 _“And if you lose, what are we going to do then? What if you get lost? What if something happens?”_ There was an accusatory edge to Mewtwo’s telepathy, but he just couldn’t _cut_ with it like Yanna could. He was really starting to miss him, now that Two could see that he would have to be handling Char alone.

“I don’t get lost, and I don’t let anything fuck with me anymore.” The trainer was firm, but vague. “I’m goin’ on the route, for Arceus’ sake; I won’t even be going off the path. This is going to take me a weekend. It’s a fuckin’ camping trip.”

_“Maybe if you had all of your team, it would be!”_

“I ain’t even fuckin’ battling that much!” Char rose her voice to match Mewtwo’s growing aggravation, but she was the only one really ‘speaking’. “I’ll just be going to the gyms and asking for a badge reissue. People picking up the circuit after dropping out do it all the time. It’s not that big of a deal!”

It was a big deal, but Mewtwo couldn’t find the right words to match the emotions he was feeling. Instead, the tightly-wound feedback of his frustration clouded Char’s head and made her even more uncooperative. Her growing ire grated against him right back, and the cycle continued to sour their connection until the clone blinked away in a huff.

He wasn’t usually angry. Mewtwo didn’t see himself as an angry person, compared to the hotheaded trainer he was used to by now. He’d been upset before, sure, but he didn’t burn like this. He didn’t feel helpless and resentful in this way before. Knowing it was over her just brought a tinge of guilt to the maelstrom of emotion, adding fuel to the fire, burning through him all over again.

Teleporting into the tiny, fenced-in suburban backyard of Norman’s house, Mewtwo grumbled and fidgeted. He stomped around, he weakly kicked the trash bin, he sighed and groaned and felt worthless again for not being able to do anything about this. He wasn’t strong enough to stop her. He couldn’t even handle an argument.

Caught up in the storm brewing in his brain, he didn’t even notice Norman out on the deck. The old gym leader leaned against the railing, placidly watching the clone while having his cigarette. Mewtwo felt self conscious instantly, ears drawing back as he slouched submissively before him.

_“Uh, sorry, I’m just-”_

“Like talkin’ to a brick wall sometimes, huh?” Norman commented, and gave the clone a knowing look. “Won’t do you any good to plead with her. She n’ her ma don’t argue, they just say their piece and don’t budge for anything.”

 _“I guess you know better than me.”_ Mewtwo grumbled, his puffed-out tail still whipping around behind him in pent-up frustration. _“Can’t you do anything about this?”_

“Not gonna,” the scarred man shrugged, resting his elbows on the cheap wooden railing. “Not my place to tell her off about it. I’m pissed, yeah, but this isn’t any of our business.”

 _“So you’re just going to let her go off on her own? After everything she’s been through?”_ Mewtwo’s eyes widened, and a new, seething burn ignited in him as he thought about all those scars on her body, all those horror stories she had under her belt.

Norman gave him a surprisingly coolheaded look, for the situation. “You don’t get it, kid. The League fucked her on the one thing she nearly died trying to get. I’d do the same thing in her shoes, I can’t say shit. It’s trainer business. You wouldn’t understand.”

He watched the psychic slump over the railing a careful distance away from him. The man sighed as he stared off into the middle distance, over the fence, between other people’s houses towards an uncertain horizon.

“There’s two kinds of trainers, spoonbender. The ones that get a couple badges and some good memories and go straight home, and the ones that just… never want to leave the route again. When you’re out there on your own, you’re free. You’re in control. No parents, no League, no society tellin’ you what you can and can’t do. Some people just change when they become a trainer, they realize they can’t live a normal life again. And sometimes… they don’t want to.”

Mewtwo looked down dejectedly at his hands, and the carefully trimmed claws he tried to file down into nonthreatening, human fingernails. _“I want to live a normal life. I just wish she wanted that, too.”_

“Yeah, well… I’m sure she’d agree with ya.” Norman put out the butt of his cigarette on the railing, and Mewtwo noticed the dozens of similar small burn marks against the surface.

“I already reissued my badge for her. I’m hopin’ the rest of the circuit goes that easy on her. I know Brawly and Flannery might let her off without a fight, but there’s more than a couple enemies she made out there, what with her attitude back then. And that ain’t even getting into the current champion…” The gym leader sighed, and ran a hand through his greying, curly hair.

Mewtwo’s ear flicked curiously. _“Why, who’s the current champion?”_

“Somebody she knows.”

Norman left it at that, stopping abruptly when the patio door opened. Char stared back at the two of them looking at her expectantly. Her bag was slung over her shoulder.

"I'm takin' the circuit bus over to Rustboro. Even if Roxanne's gone and left, Merc'll make short work of a bunch of Geodude anyways." She addressed Mewtwo first and foremost, matching his stern glower. "Then I'll take the ferry to Dewford, and see if I can't get Yanna in on this. Failing that… I bet he's got a few nephews and nieces happy to take his place."

 _"This is ridiculous,"_ Mewtwo protested once more. _"He's not going to sit idly by when he finds out what you're doing!"_

"And he's also got more than his fair share of problems with proving himself to his own kin. A victory lap like this might be what he needs, too." Char watched the clone smooth a hand over the scars on his head in exasperation, and tried to still him with a hand on his muzzle.

“Look, honey... I know you haven’t had the best introduction to what training is all about. I promise, this isn’t as big as you think it is. It’s not nearly as dangerous out there as it was when I was a kid.”

Mewtwo had a critical look in his eye, trying to keep a stern expression while her familiar, warm touch threatened to lull him into calmed contentment. _“Even if it isn’t as dangerous, what makes you so sure you’ll win?”_

Char flashed him a cheeky grin. “The championship isn’t about raw power, it’s about stage presence. Being someone memorable for the League to scoop up and make into a figurehead. I’m an underdog, after all.”

From the sidelines Norman had a quietly disapproving expression, listening to the confidence in his daughter’s voice. “So, you fuck off for more n’ a decade because you can’t stand being a League fluff piece… only to come back and try to get that attention on you again?”

“And then I’m gonna drop off the face of the earth, live in the sticks and never let the League darken my doorway again.” Char cracked her knuckles, as if she anticipated getting into a battle already. “Not gonna be as easy as when I was a cute little kid, of course, but I think nowadays there’s enough nostalgia factor for first-generation rookies like me. Not many of us left, after all… what with so many of us dying young.”

Mewtwo looked to Norman for literally any counter-argument. The gym leader merely shook his head sadly, resigned.

“Well, I can’t blame you for trying to play it safe with the ‘route celebrity’ side of things… as long as you’ve learned from your mistakes. The League may have gotten its shit together since your generation started their circuits, but you know how dangerous it can get out there.”

“Yeah. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a little dangerous, too.” Char gave him a bitter glance, her good hand gesturing vaguely at herself and the many battle scars that told violent stories of her past. “If someone wants to start shit with me, that’s their problem.”

Mewtwo’s tail swished nervously behind him, inadvertently sweeping the deck of some old fallen leaves and twigs. _“What about me? You never said anything about me coming with you…”_

Char’s battle-ready confidence faltered, an eye on her father as she tried to choose her words carefully. “You… you’ve been on the road long enough, hon. I know you’re not an outside cat. I don’t plan on taking more than a week or so, so why don’t you just stay here?”

 _“What?”_ Mewtwo asked, dumbfounded.

“What?” Norman echoed, almost appalled.

“This place is safe for him. The League stadiums ain’t.” Char was firm in her explanation, though she shied away from eye contact with the psychic. “Besides, there's nothing wrong with having a little time to yourself. Y’know…? We’ve been stuck together all winter and the whole way over here. Maybe I want a bit of a break from all… this.”

She gestured between their heads, indicating their connection. Mewtwo blinked confoundedly at her. Char never suggested they spend some time apart, _ever._ If anything, she was always the one who had the most separation anxiety, even if she never liked to mention it. She was the one with the empty space in her head, that his presence comfortably filled.

Suddenly, this whole scheme of hers, this whole plan for a comeback, was not about her career. It was never about the family ranch, or the prize money, or her need to prove herself. She didn’t need that, she needed to _get away from him._

Mewtwo felt utterly cold, no longer attempting to object to her as she went through the motions of preparing for her journey. The bus would be stopping in town soon. He could barely process that she wanted to leave, and soon she was just going to be _gone._

In the effort of confronting her away from her father, he closed the door behind him when he found Char in the spare bedroom again. With the look she gave the clone, she probably expected him.

_“I want to know why you want to do this without me.”_

“Told you already.” Char answered bluntly. She halted the last-minute check of the things she was bringing along, and sat down on the bed. “It’s just going to be easier this way. On the both of us. What’s so wrong with spending time apart sometimes?”

Mewtwo’s ears flattened behind his head. _“Because you wouldn’t be wording it so carefully if something wasn’t wrong.”_

Char went quiet, her mouth a hard thin line as she stared back at him. Their eye contact lingered for a tense moment.

“Would it change anything if something was? I’m still leaving. I’ll still come back.”

The clone sighed. _“Please, Charlotte, I just want to know what’s going on. Don’t act like I can’t tell something’s bothering you, you’ve been acting off way before this.”_

Char groaned, slouching despondently with the weight of whatever it was that was affecting her. “Look, just - just don’t get upset when I tell you, okay? You’ll get me riled up, too.”

That didn’t sound promising. _“Is it something that would upset me?”_

Char gave him a vague shrug, and her eyes trailed down to the floor.

"I just want to make sure this off feeling is me being back in my shitty one-Mudsdale town again, and not something that you're, y'know, _causing."_

Char glanced back up at him. The stony look on her face broke. "I don't know what I'd do if you were just making me sicker in the end."

Mewtwo let out the weak, ragged breath he was subconsciously holding. _"And what if I was?"_

The silence made their ears ring from the absence of voice or telepathy. Char quietly sniffled.

"Well… I'm here for a good time, not a long time." 

* * *

Unable to deal with the pain of goodbyes, Char didn't object to Two sequestering himself inside the spare room after they could share a parting kiss in privacy. Even that felt empty, cut off from the emotional warmth of their psychic connection. Knowing why she was so distant now made that absence feel all the worse.

Mewtwo didn't know what to do with himself. The thought that his very presence was inadvertently hurting, maybe even killing her was devastating. What could he even _do?_

Guilt coiled in the pit of his stomach as he put an unsteady hand to the scars on the back of his head. Maybe if he still had the inhibitor… this wouldn't be happening. Just thinking about that made him ill, but he couldn't stop dwelling on the possibility even if he wanted to. _You selfish little mutant. You wanted freedom so badly you killed her for it._

On trembling legs, Mewtwo willed himself to go to the bathroom, if only to sit on the floor in front of the toilet and wait out his anxious nausea. The sound of the front door closing made him freeze. Norman was walking in through the threshold, alone. The older trainer shrugged off his jacket, paying no heed to the pale and shaking state of the clone. Mewtwo watched how casually, how comfortably this man went about the constructed motions of human life. Must be nice, being human.

Norman glanced at the ghostly vision of the thin, pallid clone he now had to share his space with, alone. They shared an equally begrudging look towards each other. The both of them were mourning what was going on in their own way, for their own reasons.

"Saw her off at the bus. She's in the mountain's hands, now."

_"And you're just letting her leave so suddenly? Just like that?"_

"Ain't no hand what can halt a Hoennese woman." Norman was gruff and matter of fact. There was an earnestness in his usage of local idiom to describe her. "Girl could talk a Hariyama into the ground. I'm surprised she's so gentle with you, really."

Two felt a twinge in his chest, an ache that never left, that he was merely reminded of. For some reason, his spiralling despair brought a strange sense of confidence. A reckless feeling of bravery in the face of what he feared the most.

 _"That's because she loves me."_ The psychic straightened up a little, his telepathy taking on a stronger tone. _"And I love her. And I am not going to stop loving her, no matter what you say or do."_

There was a beat of silence. Norman stared at the clone for a moment before his brow furrowed in an all too familiar way.

"So?" The man snorted. The good side of his mouth turned upwards in a sardonic grin. "What, you want a medal?"

The wind was taken out of Mewtwo's proverbial sails so fast he stumbled, caught completely off guard.

_"W-what, you're not mad? I thought you wouldn't-"_

"What good's that gonna do?" Norman sighed tiredly, and slumped into his usual seat at the kitchen table. "Look, kid, I can't stop you any more than I can stop her. If she wants to keep chasin' a psy addiction…"

 _"It's not because of a psy addiction,"_ Mewtwo corrected sternly, _"we're simply in love."_

"Yeah, I'm sure it feels like it right now." The sarcastic humor in the man's voice drained entirely. "I hear about it all the time. People get so dependent on whatever it is that a psychic puts in their head they'll run off with their Kadabra, or go off looking for a Hypno. Or Arceus forbid, a _Gardevoir."_

Mewtwo felt the same chill as the gym leader did, just from mentioning the infernal psy-type. "People lose their memories, their sense of self, the functions of their brain because whatever thrill they get off of being tampered with makes them want more, and more…"

 **_"Stop!"_ ** Mewtwo shook with the intensity of his shout, a burst of feedback energy making Norman freeze and clench the mildly jostled table.

 _"I-its not like that! How_ **_dare_ ** _you say that! I would never hurt her, I don't_ **_want_ ** _to hurt her!"_

There was a mortal fear in Norman’s eyes. Mewtwo could see in the man’s thoughts the root of years of terror and dread. He might as well didn’t even see Mewtwo standing there, but the grim specter of his unresolved guilt. The Gardevoir he inadvertently let into his child’s life, because he didn’t yet know it would grow into a monster.

 _“I don’t… I’m not…”_ Mewtwo’s telepathy warped and fizzled out, the coherency of his thoughts giving way to the mess of emotion that finally bubbled over inside of him. Norman watched the clone’s face break with abject sorrow in an undeniably human way until the lights flickered and burnt out.

_“I’m not a monster.”_

* * *

Rustboro wasn’t far. The bus made the journey almost trivial. Char could see bits and pieces of the curated trainer’s route where it occasionally ran parallel to the road, almost unrecognizable after so many years. It took her what, two days to walk through this forest, as a kid? To be fair, she had gotten lost. It was a minor scare in comparison to the near-death experience she would experience barely days later, but in the moment, she was terrified. She was too stubborn to let anyone know it, but it was there.

Fear makes you do stupid things. For Char, it made her angry. The more she felt threatened, the harder she wanted to bite back. It made for what people saw as an infamous temper. The adults and the League sponsors thought it was cute that this little girl was such a spitfire. When she was attacked, it was brave that she wanted to fight back against the man responsible. When she did fight back, it was no longer cute. Then she became a problem.

Her memories were hazy enough already, but the large, glaring gaps in her recollection were disorienting. When did she become a problem? And why? Well, she knew _why._ She was letting her pokemon attack and kill anyone she perceived as a threat while on the route, alone. Scared. But it really became a problem when they realized where it was coming from. The Gardevoir, whose face she mercifully couldn’t remember. Whose voice she was glad to never have to hear again.

The bus lurching to a halt made Char snap out of her thoughts. Trainers much younger and more able-bodied than her rushed out, excited to get to their first gym. Char was used to being the last person to hobble out of the bus, carefully, cursing going from cramped conditions to the painfully steep steps down to the ground.

Char could see the unrecognizable, completely renovated Rustboro Gym across the street. It was a larger and more established place than her father’s, being the first official badge on the map. It had a training school in an adjacent building, and a shelter for rehoming pokemon that couldn’t simply be released after their trainer got tired of battling. She remembered the anticipation to get her first badge, and how her excitement extended to riling up her team. A freshly evolved, energetic Combusken made for a quick sweep of a rock-type gauntlet. And a very young, _very_ serious gym leader made for a hilarious post-match meltdown. Damn, what happened to Roxanne, anyways?

The structure of what went on inside the gym was the same as Petalburg’s. Trainers went through a couple preliminary matches, then they took a number and waited to be seen for their badge match. Char wasn’t sure if the preliminaries were around to soften them up or help the gym tally up what kind of power level they had, so the leader would pick an appropriate match team. According to her father, it was mostly to discourage people from facing the leaders head-on, unprepared. They were warm-ups.

Well, Char was already warmed the hell up, so she wasn’t playing these dumb games with these preteens. She found the same backway that all gyms had, and slipped quietly away from the others.

Char put an ear to the door at the end of the hall, where the leader’s office was. The grinding of rocky bodies told her there were a few of their team let out to rest, and that she would be catching them in between official matches. That was great for her; this wouldn’t take long. It’s just a reissue.

The woman at the desk gasped when a stranger barged into her office from the backway. A large Golem creaked and groaned as it stood upright, already preparing to defend her. Char gave them both a disarming smile, and held up her hands.

“Heyyyy Roxanne! ...This _is_ Roxanne, right?”

“Um,” the woman got to her feet, posture ramrod straight as she tried to collect the composure she let scatter to the floor. “Yes, I am she. And you are…?”

Char watched her eyes dart around, noticing first the missing fingers, then moving upward to the familiar visage, and right before her eyes, she could see the conclusion being reached: This was one hundred percent a Jessop, no doubt about it.

“Charlotte?!”

Char shrugged casually, grinning, unable to play off the rush being recognized gave her. The look of shock on the gym leader’s face quickly soured into a scowl. The Golem grumbled tensely to match the mood he sensed from her.

“What the hell are you doing in here? Go to the front desk and sign in like a normal human being.”

“Damn, a _‘wow I can’t believe you’re back, that’s so cool’_ would have sufficed.” Char rolled her eyes, unaffected by her reaction.

“You can’t just sneak in here off the record. That’s _illegal.”_ Roxanne put a grating amount of emphasis on the term _‘illegal’_ , like she was scolding one of her rookie students. “I hoped you would have more sense than you did at twelve years old, but I guess there’s no accounting for your condition.”

“My condition don’t make me a bitch. _I_ make me a bitch.” Char pointed to herself with her thumb.

Roxanne looked at her like she was an _annoyance,_ and briefly it felt like she was still a cocky twelve-year-old aggravating an equally cocky but more rule-abiding fifteen-year-old. Either the older trainer was a sore loser, or Char was just a sore winner. Probably both.

The very put-together and now very stressed gym leader sighed, and smoothed down her already prim and proper hair. “Alright, Jessop. What do you want with me?”

“You know what I want. I want a rematch and a new badge.”

“A reissue?” The gravity of the situation suddenly dawned on Roxanne, her eyes bugging out like it was actually, genuinely a shock.

“You’re not seriously going back on the circuit again, are you?”

“Well I’m not fuckin’ here because I like rocks or anything.” Char rolled her eyes, ignoring the way the other trainer’s face took on a dire look.

Roxanne’s voice lowered into a serious, pleading tone. “Charlotte, do you even know who the current champion is?”

“Uh,” Char’s attitude faltered as she noticed the look on the woman’s face, finally. “Can’t say I’m caught up on the current roster?”

Roxanne almost cringed. She definitely didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, or ideally any news, for Char in particular.

“Charlotte, _Wally_ is on the roster. He’s been at the top for years.”

It took a moment for that to hit. First it was what memory of the wispy little asthmatic kid she still had intact, then it was the dawning realization that she remembered so little of him in the first place. Her stomach flipped, fists clenching before she could even process how her body was reacting.

And that anger… that sudden spark of fire that erupted in her chest, that part of her hole-ridden brain that wouldn’t let something go, no matter how hard she wanted to forget it… He did something, what did he _do?_ Dammit Nico, you took too much out again. She wanted to forget Venus, not anything else; unless there was something about dipshit little wimpy Wally that the Kazam found detrimental enough to take that out as well. It wasn’t grief like missing ~~her~~ _it,_ it was anger. What part was anger and what part was just her being scared and lashing out?

Roxanne gave the suddenly blank and silent Char a concerned frown, leaning over the desk a little as if to try and get a good look at what was going on behind her eyes. “You okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’m just, I’m just-” Char snapped out of her lull with a shake of her head, her curly hair falling in front of her face. “Just got black spots in the ol’ memory. Y’know, from _the condition.”_

“Oh,” Roxanne grimaced, “for a minute there I thought you were about to, _you know.”_

Her fist collided with her open palm to signify conflict. Char blinked at it until she realized what it really meant.

“Oh... what? No, no, I don’t uh, get punchy like I did anymore.” The trainer brushed her fingers through her hair nervously, shifting her weight off her aching knee. “Say, help me out here: Wally did something, right? Like, something… shitty, to me? Once?”

“No…?” The gym leader seemed confused by her question, almost even more concerned at whatever implication sprang to mind. Then, something came to her, dire enough for her to hesitate. She bit her lip, getting lipstick on her teeth. “I mean… he did give your folks that Ralts in the first place, didn’t he?”

The final puzzle piece fell in place. Of course that had to be the reason she struggled to remember any of the kid after a certain point. Of course that was why Roxanne was so careful about telling her. That anger welled up in her again. Or was it fear?

Wait, he had one too, didn’t he? A Ralts. There’s no way he could have still had it, right? That would mean it had to be grown up by now. A Gardevoir, just like Venus. Exactly like Venus. No wonder she couldn’t remember anything about him after a certain point; he was sick too. But was he still sick?

Roxanne watched Char tremble, frozen in a conflicting mix of anger and dread. Char was in her own head now, and she was trying. So hard. To remember.

The badge could wait. The League could wait. She just…

Needed a moment.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence; physical and psychic

Under the falling veil of dusk, a couple of Paradise security guards took their thirty minute break on a secluded balcony. It wasn't such a bad job; you just keep your head down around the scientists, and keep curious trainers from snooping about. They seemed to stow away like Raticate on the supply ships sometimes. Something about the facility drew their eye. Unsurprising, considering it was a gleaming jewel on an immaculate, artificial island. 

One of the Aether grunts clucked their tongue as they lowered a rolled joint down towards their ankles. A tiny House Charmander perked up from the familiar hand drawing closer, and whipped a burning tail at their fingers, igniting the spliff in the process. The guard gave their pokemon a loving scratch, and relaxed over the stylish, white-painted railing. A few stars were already starting to twinkle into view above them, their familiar patterns of constellations forming before their eyes. The cool breeze off the ocean blew their puffs of smoke out over the water below. Another peaceful night in Paradise.

The guard was passing the joint to their coworker when their Charmander started hissing. The two grunts squinted into the growing darkness, but only found the faint, disappearing horizon line of sky and sea. They leaned forward, only to suddenly lurch back in fright as a large, inhuman beast rose up in front of them. The light that radiated from its hand as it wielded its power briefly illuminated a monstrous face, twisted into a devilish smirk at their fright.

_“Sleep.”_

As the humans crumpled uselessly to the floor, Nico caught their hand-rolled cigarette before it could become a casualty of the incident. The Charmander that now crouched protectively on its master’s knees let out an angry little squall, their fire-starting glands starting to ignite along their tail and up their spine. The Alakazam just reached into his bag and tossed it a treat. Some last measure of defense it turned out to be, instantly scuttling off to chase after the piece of kibble.

Addie peeked over the railing before hopping over it, their feline grace only slightly hindered by their skirts caught in the wind. They leaned over the still bodies to sniff them cautiously. Nico took an indulging drag from the joint he pilfered, watching them carefully poke one of the young men in the cheek to make sure he was out cold. Satisfied with a lack of response, the clone wrestled off his uniform jacket with a grin.

 _“That’s not going to fit, you know.”_ Nico pointed out unhelpfully. There was some distinct popping of stitches somewhere on the garment, as Addie brute-forced it to fit over their shoulders. They didn’t seem as bothered.

_“I’m used to things not fitting. I can’t help it if all the good human clothes are so small.”_

Nico took another hit, stopping halfway through his inhale to take in the flavor of the smoke on his tongue, his nose wrinkling into a disappointed sneer. He flicked it over the balcony disdainfully, unsatisfied.

_"Alright, now we head to security."_

Nico had done enough cloak and dagger bullshit to lay out a plan for their raid. Addie, used to leaving a trail of destruction in their wake, wasn't familiar with the concept of being 'careful'; they deferred to him and his experience. Reading the location from a guards mind, they slipped into the shack that lay separate from the main building.

 _"Let me guess, the whole computer system can be accessed from here, too? Typical."_ Nico clucked his tongue as he overlooked the panel controls and monitors. Adeline looked up at a wall of camera footage before them.

_"Do we wreck all this stuff too?"_

_"In a minute,"_ Nico busied himself with one of the computers, his search brief between his skill and the passwords they collected.

Addie took to spinning in one of the office chairs, an aether hat they swiped from another grunt tilted low over their eyes. As they completed a rotation, they made a point of kicking a fallen guard to keep themself twirling.

Nico smirked to himself as he entered a command line with an unnecessary flourish. _"The emergency alert system is at our fingertips. What do you think would give them more of a scare, fire? Poison gas? Containment breach?"_

Addie stopped spinning, their attention piqued. _"Oh, containment breach, definitely."_

_"Excellent choice."_

The two clones immediately covered their ears, bracing for the blaring alarm Nico purposefully tripped. On the camera feed, startled humans began to panic as they were shocked out of their routine.

Addie watched them scurry with amusement, and pouted when Nico shut off the feed. After some fiddling, the Alakazam made sure to erase the data as further measure to cover their tracks. _"Alright Adds', you can smash it now."_

 _"Yes!"_ The hairless clone hopped up, grabbed their chair, and gleefully slammed it into the monitors.

Broken glass and electronics bounced harmlessly off of the barrier Nico shielded himself with. He let them indulge themselves, content with them doing the legwork of destruction, as they had more than enough energy for it. He was only running on five hours of sleep, himself.

That was step one. Now they needed to head into the lab proper. The humans were distracted for the moment, barely noticing the psychics sneaking in. Whole rooms were already cleared out on the ground level, making Nico wonder about the escape routes they had in place. Were they that prepared for a disaster? What terror did they just inspire by fabricating a containment failure?

The main atrium, even under the intermittent flashing of the alarm, was beautiful. And most of all, it was enormous. It was practically a park under glass, with a network of walkways cutting through a curated garden. Addie shied away from unfamiliar plants, uneasiness in their expression.

_"I don’t remember them having all this, when I was with Giovanni."_

_“What do you remember?”_ Nico asked, perking up curiously.

 _“Well,”_ Addie had to pause, apparently thinking hard from how their face screwed up with the frustration of a less-than-perfect memory. Something Nico was more familiar with humans, rather than psy-types. _“There was a lot of white everywhere, like there is now, and also Giovanni was talking to the most beautiful woman… she had all this long hair and this nice fancy dress and-”_

 _“_ **_Focus_ ** _, Adeline.”_

 _“- And I… I don’t remember much after that. Gio’ returned me to the Master Ball because I wasn’t looking menacing enough…”_ Addie frowned, thinking back on the unpleasant mark the man made on their memory. _“He liked to do that. Have me stand next to him, looking scary. I never liked it when people were actually scared of me, though.”_

 _“Well, I think you’ll need to tolerate that just a little longer.”_ Nico turned their attention to a few employees in lab coats that were on another end of the atrium, trying to quickly find an escape route. Addie saw their familiar outfits, and snarled.

 _“Oh, I_ **_hate_ ** _scientists!”_

They were stopped from lunging by a hand firmly grabbing their shoulder. Nico sounded resigned. _“Let me handle them. Please.”_

Addie whined petulantly,but still hung back to let him take the lead. The scientists were understandably alarmed, seeing a menacing and uncanny psychic flying straight towards them. Not unlike Adeline, Nico never liked being feared so instinctively… but he was not above having to use it to his advantage, sometimes. Fear paralyzed them as they were conflicted towards which direction they should flee from the Alakazam approaching from the side, over the atrium bushes. It made them easier to grab with barely a gesture.

_"The cleanup crew has arrived, so let us begin."_

His power gripped them, and they went limp.

After this, he was going to be done with this work for good. That is what Nico kept telling himself, at least. He simply didn't have the luxury of stopping, whilst needing to keep their appearances obscured from humanity, needing to erase the dangerous research from these people's minds. He absorbed profane knowledge, contextless and in a disorienting torrent. The Kazam grimaced from the amount of complicated information he had to process; he hated wiping scientists for this reason. Too much crap to compile later, so he wouldn't be plagued by intrusive memories that weren't his.

The unconscious lab coats were gently placed on the ground. They'd wake up in a couple hours with a psy-hangover, but they'll live. It was a better fate than receiving the brunt of Addie's projected pain and anger. Nico sensed their apprehension, glaring at the harmless civilians like they could come to and try to subdue them at any moment. Like they were the ones that had strapped the clone to tables and filled them with needles in the past.

Nico paused to sift through the metaphorical files he wrested from their victims. What he was starting to piece together was disturbing; disturbing in the way the cinnabar lab was, uncanny, cursed. The clone shivered. Then he realized exactly what was all around them.

_"... Adeline? Have you noticed something off about all these plants?"_

Adeline was already taking a scientist's watch. _"Huh? I dunno, they're just plants."_

He observed the bluish foliage of a bush nearby, taking a leaf curiously. It looked merely exotic, perhaps, but something rubbed him the wrong way the more he was around the flora and fauna here. Nico looked down at the branches, twisted and curling in a strange shape. The Kazam squinted suspiciously. _"Arceus, they did it."_

_“Huh?”_

_“These plants, they’re souvenirs of their dimension-hopping. Look.”_ Nico found the inconspicuous label tied to the base of the bush, detailing some finely printed jargon and a location: ‘Earth Iteration #6’.

It would be merely strange, perhaps, if he didn't know what he already knew about this place. The alien landscape around them was carefully maintained; a garden labeled and looked after as any other science experiment, information about the plants written on tags, detailing iterations of their world, as well as worlds labeled by codes of numbers and letters. Some were potted in their own soil, others had gallon jugs of specially prepared water, or whatever analog they needed beside them. The only thing these alien plants truly had in common was their survival in a similar atmosphere.

Nico flinched when Addie piped up behind him. _"They just look like plants, to me. All plants look weird."_

_"I think it's not so much that they're plants, but that it's proof they've perfected that portal tech."_

_"Sooo, do we smash them?"_

_"Er, maybe later."_ Nico tried and failed to look like he wasn't affected by the discovery. Maybe this was what everyone else felt like around him, that sinking feeling of being around something that didn't belong here.

Using the stolen memories of the floorplan, a shortcut to the labs was easy to find. More examples of souvenirs were in less appealing specimen jars and collection boards. Strange, otherworldly pokemon, photos that were windows to their alien homes. Nico just tried to keep his head in the game. Frankly, he was starting to tire of having his understanding of the universe upended completely on a regular basis.

Addie, used to feeling like a Magikarp out of water, simply looked through the displays with no ill effect. Their own understanding of the universe probably upended itself every day. It made their observation more objective, less distracted. They pointed out the engineering bay before Nico even noticed it.

The trademarks of a research and development lab were familiar to the Kazam, though he only ever worked in them at the behest of Giovanni. There were a dozen workstations with their own computers here; prototypes, work left unfinished… and the large metal ring that stood on a platform, inert. A set of stairs led up to it, implying that they actually tried to go inside the thing. Now, why was _that_ familiar?

The file photos Methuselah let him glimpse were of poor quality, but his mind kept the still images intact with as much clarity as if it were hours before. That design was unmistakable.

And once more, there went his understanding of the universe again. Ah, well. Nico sighed, exhausted on multiple levels.

 _“Great. Guess I’m going to have a talk with him about this.”_ Nico grumbled sullenly to himself, too tired to filter his thoughts away from the other psychic in the room. Addie perked up from their own sniffing around.

_“Huh?”_

_“My brother,”_ Nico sighed, world-weary, as he approached the frame to inspect it. _“He’s the one that conscripted me into this. I assume this similarity to the Sootopolis Anomaly’s design is no coincidence, as I have learned that there are no coincidences anymore.”_

 _“You sound tired,”_ Addie pointed out the obvious, padding over to his side. They gave him a sincere look of concern. _“Are you okay?”_

Nico self-consciously straightened out, trying not to seem as ragged as he felt. He averted his eyes from the other clone gruffly. _“I’m fine. Let’s just wreck all this and get it over with.”_

He was happy to let them revel in destruction, letting them crumple the frame of the surely priceless technology like it was made of aluminum. Using his own powers, he concentrated on working through several computers at once to begin the destruction of all the information they contained. The good thing about wiping computers, was that he didn’t absorb anything from them that he didn’t purposefully read. Less of a hassle to do, less baggage to deal with afterwards.

Addie used a piece of the portal frame like a bat to hit the desktops soon after Nico was done with them, as happily as can be. Their amusement had an undercurrent of relief to it; catharsis, and a feeling that they’ve accomplished something good for once, after all the atrocities they were forced to commit. Nico could relate to that, appreciating the warmth of their bright mood.

_“I’m surprised you didn’t attempt to go through with your original plans, Adeline.”_

Addie paused their technological massacre to address him. Their expression turned serious. _“You would have died trying to stop me, so I decided not to.”_

Oh. Nico looked away from their owlish stare again. _“Well, I appreciate that.”_

 _“I only wanted to do it because I thought there was nothing else for me here.”_ The smashing continued, breaking the improvised weapon over a dented desk with a more forceful emphasis. _“I’m not meant to exist here. I can feel it. It doesn’t matter how many things I collect, or how many ways I try to change myself, I just don’t fucking_ **_belong!_ ** _”_

Bringing a clenched fist down in the air, Addie obliterated a tall stack of servers. Nico grimaced, bracing against the shockwave, and took on a scolding tone. _“Hey. Let’s not get carried away here, alright?”_

The clone clenched their trembling fists, held tightly at their sides as they huffed, trying to settle themself down. When he gauged it was safe enough, he gave them a careful pat on their shoulder.

_“Look, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, let’s just focus on the matter at hand. When we get out of here we can hit up one of those malasada places. Sound good?”_

Addie tried to look like they were unimpressed by the offer. _“Hmm… that’s acceptable.”_

They moved onto some sort of storage, containing backup materials for their prototypes. A few of the Paradise security guards met them there, remaining conscious just long enough for horror to flash across their faces, realizing they were outmatched. Nico sniffed. _“I think they’re starting to realize we aren’t exactly a containment breach. Watch out for any more civilians, just don’t start killing.”_

Adeline sneered at his lecturing tone, making sure to kick a downed guard while stepping over them. _“Why are you so against killing people? Is it not easier than having to wipe them?”_

 _“Violence can be addictive for some people, and you look like you have an... addictive personality. No offense.”_ Nico frowned at the disdainful look they gave him, their opinion on him apparently flipping at the drop of a hat.

 _“Why, have_ **_you_ ** _killed people?”_ They countered, watching him bristle defensively at their directness.

_“There have been a few hits I was assigned to. It’s not something I ever wanted to make a habit of. But I have witnessed enough remorseless violence from others to last me lifetimes.”_

_“So have I, but I’m not a pussy about it.”_ Addie preened smugly; their gestures mirroring Nico’s habits with his fur not going unnoticed by him.

The Alakazam smirked at the standoffish attitude, despite himself. At least he would rather they act like a brat rather than lash out at him for being told ‘no’. He shook his head with a sigh. _“I don’t know how to convey to you that you should still value human lives. I resent them too, but I simply avoid them.”_

Addie ignored his words stubbornly, and focused on wrecking the last vestiges of the Aether Foundation’s work.

Systematically, they went through the R&D department with the intent to send these mad scientists back a few decades in research. Those scientists were returning to defend the last vestiges with what they could; pokemon, firearms, and eventually anti-psy technology after realizing what they were up against. That just made Addie angry.

Despite the fury that erupted in their eyes as they dismantled tranquilizer guns and inhibition traps, the hairless clone seemed to honor Nico’s request for them not to kill. However, they still definitely _maimed_ a few people. The Alakazam winced whenever he watched people crumple to the floor after being slammed into the wall, broken and often bloodied. Pokemon were given less grim fates, mostly from their trainers returning them quickly as they saw themselves outmatched. Nico could see that the ones that had pokemon were usually the ones who would cut their losses and run. No sense in letting your partner die when faced with a god.

These grunts were not prepared for such an assault. Not only was their psychic frequency powerful enough to shatter the suppression field generators employed as a last resort, they also had their share of raw physical power. For Addie, this was nothing. It was what they were made for, for better or worse. Nico felt that twinge of regret underneath the exhilaration of causing havoc. Violence _was_ addictive, and now they seemed to be aware of that pull after he pointed it out.

They were great at being a distraction, at least. Efforts to subdue their destruction centered the Foundation’s attention on them, and left Nico to simply slip into the shadows. He preferred to work in subtler ways, anyway.

There was the mental image of a floor plan he kept in mind, and one by one he was crossing ruined rooms out. A laundry list of ‘problem areas’ had eventually narrowed down to one. At his request, Adeline led the Aether forces away from where he was headed. He would be quick about this, and then they would be done.

Apparently, there were unique risks to their discovery of this ‘Ultra Space’, in that the spatial realm they tapped into was inhabited. True cosmic horrors, things that were not meant to be beheld by mortal eyes. Encounters with them were a part of the collected information Nico was still sorting out, just adding more and more _nonsense_ to the pile. Cosmic horrors. Cool. Great. Why was he doing this again? Oh, that’s right: a cute girl asked him nicely.

The high-security containment area for collected ‘Ultra Beast’ specimens had a gloomy atmosphere to it; reminding him in no small part of the Cinnabar Lab. A place similarly carrying a cursed, foreboding feeling to warn him of the secrets best kept alone.

Left to float indefinitely in their tanks, these were the ones they managed to hunt. The creatures came with their own devastating death toll on the Foundation, proving too alien and uncontrollable to be reasoned with. Whether they were still alive now was up in the air, but Nico recognized the design of the tanks. Suspension chambers, with some extra improvements to accommodate them. The Kazam would have been morbidly curious, if he wasn’t exhaustively pushed so far past giving a damn; this was some prime sci-fi shit. At this rate, he might as well make a living passing off his tiresome life as pulpy fiction.

This was definitely something he would rather entrust to Addie, so he left the monsters alone for now. There was another thing on this floor that was a high priority. He had just gotten to the safe it was stored in, when a sudden presence made him freeze. A psychic had teleported in, and it was _not_ Addie.

“Don’t let it get to the subject!” A panicked human shouted behind him. Nico’s heart dropped as he spun around, seeing the scientist and his partner, a fellow Kazam. No, an _Alakazam._

He was an average-sized, overall textbook example of one; older than Nico, evident in the grey in his mane and braided whiskers. He didn’t seem to be the human’s battling partner, but rather a fellow scientist with his own lab coat and everything. The smaller Kazam looked almost as shocked as the intruder did, the both of them seeing funhouse mirror versions of themselves in each other. Nico the same fear he saw in every human’s eyes reflected back at him.

The aging, balding man that wore a slightly fancier lab coat than his peers didn’t seem to get why his partner had paused, pointing accusingly at the massive Kazam. “Ozzy! What are you waiting for? Use Hypnosis!”

The Alakazam hesitated, but Nico was quicker on the draw. He flicked a hand, and the human went limp, to the other psychic’s mounting horror.

 _“Doctor!”_ He quickly grabbed the man with telekinesis before he could crack his head on the tiles, giving Nico a livid snarl. _“You idiot, do you have any idea what you’re doing? Who sent you?!”_

The larger Kazam held up his hands, indicating his yield. _“Nobody. I’m simply looking to prevent a disaster waiting to happen. You should be lucky you’re not facing my partner, however.”_

 _“You cannot_ **_fathom_ ** _how much you have taken from us! This was the future of our world, the greatest innovation our civilizations would have ever seen!”_ The Alakazam’s telepathy crackled with the underlying, genuine grief at the loss of decades of work. A magnum opus that he had a hand in, and endless pride for. Nico had never known that, personally. He only made things for humans that made him sick to think back on.

 _“You made something that was going to cause nothing but trouble. Trust me. Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way; and I am_ **_not_ ** _in the mood to do it the hard way.”_

The opposing Kazam bared his teeth, much less menacing than the primal fangs the clone also flashed. _“You’re going to have to kill me for it, monster!”_

A spark of anger ignited in Nico’s chest from the insult, the sort heard hundreds upon hundreds of times throughout his life. He remembered every single one, and now he was reminded of them all. Trying to keep himself together, he sighed.

_“I see we’re doing this the hard way, then.”_

The poor bastard who just worked here was ridiculously outmatched. Nico felt the other psychic’s mind attempt to enter his, held back by the mental barriers the clone held up. A beam of psy-energy was aimed for him, bouncing off the Light Screen he summoned. He was tired, and he was certainly rusty at battling, but Nico was still superior to his opponent. Lunging in a way that threw his opponent off-guard, he pinned the Alakazam effortlessly.

He hated this man on principle; this stunted, trained, _domesticated_ Kazam, whose appearance made the clone’s stomach turn. This psychic belonged in this world, while Nico was by all accounts supposed to be extinct. Being a relic, he could muster up the physical strength that the fragile elder didn’t; choking the concentration out of him with much larger, stronger hands, looking down at his opponent with the eyes of an enraged beast. If he was to be a monster, then he was going to fight like one.

With his air supply cut off, the smaller Alakazam couldn’t hope to target Nico’s mind, but the act of attempting to infiltrate a psychic’s brain was already a massive feat in itself. Nico was having to exert himself as well, but the compounded fury and hatred was enough to spur him further. Deeper and deeper, into just as much garbage made of collected memories as he had. It was a more grueling, painful experience than any human mind was, but he was _going_ to find what he searched for.

He couldn’t just neglect to wipe the last, vital backup of all the Aether Foundation’s data: the natural supercomputer of the Alakazam’s mind. It really was all there and more, a sensory overload of psychic exchange that Nico struggled to bear. His head throbbed, blood already dripping from his nose and onto his victim’s tortured face. He couldn’t stop. He had to finish the job.

Even when he had wiped the offending information, he still sunk greedily deeper into the other psychic’s mind, taking it all. All these years the naturally-born Kazam lived. All of this normal life, all these normal relationships, all these experiences and accomplishments and other things that were alien to Nico. People who loved him. A mother and father. A place in the world that he never had to question, not once in those fifty-five years of natural existence. You don’t _deserve_ it, _you don’t deserve_ **_any_ ** _of it-_

The prying, stabbing force of the Alakazam’s attempts to hold Nico’s intrusion back ebbed away, the longer he spent angrily destroying the man’s life from the inside. Unconsciousness from asphyxiation eventually made the smaller psychic go limp in Nico’s hands, their connection cutting off. Nico was suddenly left alone, in the eerie gloom of the lab. 

He prised his stiff, trembling fingers from the half-dead Kazam’s neck, panting, his heart racing to keep up with the demand of his own brain, now a knot of pure pain throbbing in his skull. His limbs feeling too numb to stand, Nico sat back on his haunches in a daze. What he just did was hitting him through the agony, twisting in his gut.

What a monstrous thing to do.

Barely noticed by him, Adeline’s presence could still be faintly felt. The hairless clone was just catching up to him themself, their panicked telepathy sounding distant within the Alakazam’s head.

 _“Nico, watch out! There’s another psychic… here…”_ They trailed off as they came across the scene. The same kind of horror Nico saw from everyone flashed in their expression, but only for a moment as they padded over to him with wet, worried eyes. He waved them off, denying himself any sort of comfort or aid.

 _“I didn’t- I didn’t kill him.”_ He finally managed to think in terms of coherent words, the rest being a jumble of overwhelmed, garbled attempts at exchanging telepathy with them. He staggered to his feet. The job wasn’t finished.

At least the Alakazam had the correct security codes on him, so graciously supplied to Nico. He unlocked the safe that held the last secret the Aether Foundation still held. The hermetically sealed chamber opened slowly, and revealed that it only had one thing.

With a cold, unsteady hand, Nico took out the pokeball. It was a custom design, unfamiliar to him but undoubtedly unique to contain a truly powerful creature. The clone forced out a chuckle.

_“Well… th-that’s one less monster in the world. Am… am I right? Excuse me...”_

Addie gasped as he fainted on the spot.


	11. Chapter 11

Adeline was jerked out of a dull and empty state of dissociation by the now familiar twitching of the figure beside them. It was no different than any other time they’ve watched Nico sleep; whatever night terrors he was having made him shudder and whimper in distress, but this time, it wasn’t reaching a crescendo to jolt him awake. Addie continued to make sure of that, trying to keep the ailing Kazam comfortable, attempting to convey a feeling of peace and safety to him through psychic connection. When that didn’t work, they settled on laying beside him. At least he wouldn’t be alone.

The Alakazam was trembling, hands clutching the sheets beneath him as some unknown fear gripped his slumbering mind. Not wanting to get elbowed or kicked again, Addie moved to lay on top of him and purr loudly until he settled down once more. This cycle went on for what felt like an eternity.

With no real idea of what to do, but enough understanding as a psychic to know what he was going through, they could only really wait it out. He had to wake up sometime, right? They didn’t even leave his side, even if being cooped up in this stolen motel room for so long was utterly agonizing. Addie knew what it was like to wake up sick, terrorized, and most of all alone.

Eventually, Nico awoke into terrible darkness.

He was blind, paralyzed, unable to protect himself. Even if he couldn't see it, a dreadful spectre's presence seemed to loom just over him, as it always had, on and off for years. Initial, instinctual panic gave way to annoyance as he struggled against the sleep paralysis that held him between two states of consciousness. He knew his demons couldn't hurt him, being the ghosts who haunted other people's minds. They just simply wouldn’t _leave._

Eventually, struggling against the limp and useless heaviness in his limbs made his body jerk, slowly regaining control again. An elbow shifted and hit something solid beside him. Whatever it was, it made a disgruntled ‘ _mrrp’_ in response.

The shifting of weight on the mattress and the displacement of the blankets told him he wasn't alone, not counting the specter that lingered in the back of his half-awake mind. A familiar presence was felt through the metaphorical fog. He tried to focus on it, conveying distress like an Abra that woke up without its parents.

 _"Oh,"_ he heard Addie say, _"forgot you can't see in the dark."_

A lamp beside him was turned on, instantly bringing him from empty blackness to blinding brightness fast enough to make his eyes sting. That was the final jolt to rip him out of the clutches of that wretched thing. Covering his eyes, Nico grimaced. Sensory overload on top of sensory overload.

Addie watched with concern as the other clone slowly hunched over miserably, clutching his head. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths to try and center himself before looking around and getting his bearings. It was the same room they stayed in since they made landfall; a cheap spot in an old, barely used motel further out from Heahea City. With a heavy sigh, Nico willed himself to get up and stagger to the bathroom. Muffled retching could be heard from within. Addie waited until the eventual flush before going after him.

With his most pressing needs out of the way, Nico inspected his bloodshot, sunken eyes in the mirror. He looked like death, but it would be temporary. He was already prone to psychic overload sickness, being an imperfect clone; the massive migraine would just last for a good while. This had to be the worst case he experienced yet.

He expected to have to clean the blood out of his whiskers, only to find that someone else had beaten him to it. That someone carefully nudged the ajar door open, and Nico averted his eyes from the heartbroken look on Adeline's face. The other clone looked similarly bedraggled; with tired, worried eyes and clothing more disheveled than he was used to seeing from them. He figured they would have at least changed while he was out. Addie gave him his space, idling in the doorway anxiously.

_"So... do you need anything?"_

They sounded profoundly unused to asking that question. Nico was unused to being asked. With his thoughts still a contorted mess and his body still wracked with the toll his atrocities put on him, he could only think of one thing.

_"Uh, the uh- go to my bag and look for - actually, just bring the whole bag."_

His lightheadedness catching back up to him, Nico sat on the floor and waited for them to return. The hairless clone looked hopeful as they handed him the shoulder bag; watching him dig through his meager belongings, pulling out a few pill bottles. Unable to focus on reading the labels, Nico took to picking the right one by shape and color.

Addie sat down next to him, staring fixedly. _"What are those for?"_

Nico downed the correct pill; hopefully it would take the edge off. _"Panic attacks."_

He held up the three bottles to further explain, pointing from left to right. _"Short term anxiety, long term anxiety, sleep aids."_

Addie nodded, though whether they understood was up in the air. Nico grabbed the counter in front of him to pull himself upright on weak legs, set on desperately drinking from the faucet with cupped hands. After fighting off his dehydration, he could start thinking a little more clearly. Just a little.

_"What time is it?"_

Addie shrugged. _"I dunno. Daytime?"_

Nico sighed. He should know better by now. He instead took his phone from the bag for a better answer. Reading the date made him pause.

_"I… was I really out for twenty hours?"_

_"Is that… bad?"_

_"Well,"_ Nico shrugged, weighing the circumstances. _"It’s certainly the best sleep I've ever had."_

The oppressive glare of the light over the mirror was starting to bore new holes in his brain, still overtaxed by exertion and unprocessed information. Racing thoughts and memories that weren’t his buzzed within the confines of his skull. He needed to do something about this.

 _“Adds’, I’m… I need some time to myself. I’m going somewhere to meditate, to try and sort my head out for a bit. You stay here, alright?”_ Nico looked the other clone in the eye, and Addie frowned, shying away from the eye contact.

The Kazam sighed, not having the patience to accommodate them while he was in this condition. Addie flinched as he blinked out of the room, jolted into blurting out what they hesitated to convey.

_“But I don’t want to be alone!”_

There was nobody around to hear that. Something they had gotten used to in the past, that now stung after becoming accustomed to someone being there in the first place. They were aware of that, and now they were _frustrated as hell_ about it.

Finding a stretch of shoreline too rocky for tourists to wander near, Nico attempted to shut himself off from everything. It would’ve been harder without that last-minute pill to do this in his condition. He was distracted easily, his thoughts always wandering, only getting worse with silence. The white noise of the ocean helped as something to focus on. Focusing on anything was not what he was taught, but it worked, and for the past decade or so it kept him sane. Willing himself into some semblance of calm, the Kazam could now work on the mess he put himself in.

Kazam brains work differently than humans; their species was aware of it from the beginning. While humans were only realizing the extent of their consciousness _now_ , the Kazam had been granted insight into the divine chaos since the beginning. Myuu, supposedly, told the first one they made themself. The first exchange between creator and creation. That progenitor passed that information down through generations. Elders that evolved into Alakazam were built to take on this role; maintaining that knowledge and passing it on. That was going great for them until, well, humans.

Humans just killed off the elders, knowing their whole society hinged on them. Whatever divine knowledge they had was lost with the dead. Their children grew up never knowing it. Only artifacts remained from the kind of Kazam Nico came from, and they were just a curiosity. The sort of thing written about for a half-assed history article. _‘Thousands of years ago, Kazam had their shit together - and what happened next will shock you’._

Maybe that was what was wrong with him. He couldn’t get into the kind of meditation the modern Kazam around him used. Nico was never comfortable within a communion of multiple psychics, and attempts to sink into the sort of still, introspective trance they recommended just didn’t work. He had developed his own method of centering himself and compartmentalizing information, and that suited him just fine. Mostly.

For the undisciplined, walking around with the memories of countless others in your head was a one-way ticket to advanced psychosis. You lose your sense of self, letting them internalize into your own false memories. By meditating and sorting out information, a Kazam could put a whole other life in a metaphorical box, kick it under the bed, and only bring it out if they needed to find a specific cooking recipe.

Nico still dwelled on the memories he took from his fellow Alakazam, but he wasn’t so jealous as to claim them as his own. Even if he still felt the aftershocks of emotion associated with the pieces of the other Kazam’s life, sifting them out while he made sure his own miserable life was still intact. It was a little like editing a movie for him. At least, visualizing it in such a way was what helped him do so in the first place.

The film of his victim’s long, fulfilling life was isolated, compartmentalized, and kicked far, far under that bed. Now he can get over it. Like all those other times he had to do this.

Now, for all that contraband Aether Foundation crap. That could be put to use; he was definitely going to dangle these blueprints in front of his brother just to see the look on his face. If Methuselah was working with a bunch of independent crackpots, it could be blackmail. If Nico just foiled someone who stole a top secret League patent, that might mean a reward. Either way, the opportunist in him was delighted.

Falling into a routine, Nico focused on the task at hand, and not everything else his mind was trying to do. Being within himself like this, he was becoming aware of everything else that was in here with him. He tried not to dwell on that, as that was obviously going to make it worse. Unfortunately, dwelling on not dwelling on it was still giving it attention.

It was always that spark of anxiety, first. The tightening in his chest, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. Paranoia creeped up on him, seizing his throat, making it hard to breathe. Waking up to that damn thing earlier and still having that in the back of his mind was probably what was doing this. Trying to keep his calm, Nico finished up while keeping up the old mantra. _It’s dead, it can’t hurt you. It’s dead, it can’t hurt you._

Oh, but she could make him feel _awful_ in the meantime.

He knew she was behind him, and he was trying to stubbornly look away. Regardless, the ghost remained in the corner of his eye at all times, tempting him to focus on it and make its presence worse. Nico rolled his eyes.

_“I’m already leaving, so don’t even start.”_

The horrible thing haunted his mind, twisted into a spiteful monster by another person’s grief. It ran on that memory of grief and terror, that complex trauma that had proven so powerful he could never really get rid of it. It had been almost fifteen years since he removed the worst parts of Charlotte’s memory of Venus. His inexperienced abilities accidentally made it his own damn problem, too.

Fear gripped him, cold and suffocating, and that was his cue to leave. He tried to break himself out of the trance - not too unlike the paralysis he underwent - and as he struggled with regaining consciousness she just got closer, and closer, and-

Nico jolted back into reality, a hypnagogic jerk mercifully pulling him back into his body. His senses came back to him; the pleasant white noise and salty air of the sea, the heat and light of the Alolan surf, the... bile aftertaste in his mouth. He was here and ~~she~~ _it_ was dead, and that was how he preferred it.

The Kazam’s posture sagged. The physical symptoms of his psy-overload, and the aftermath of his earlier impulses were creeping back up on him. Underneath the sun, he still felt the chill of the ghost’s horrible presence, mixing in with the guilt and the anxiety and the _general malaise_ of his existence. That, and the high frequency psy-presence of somebody closing in on him.

Rubbing the aching side of his head uselessly, Nico groaned. _“_ **_What_ ** _, Adeline.”_

The other clone had zeroed in on him with a determined glare, but his flat and humorless acknowledgment caught them off guard. They paused a few yards away, like they were afraid of getting too close. He remained with his back to them. Too tired to humor them, too caught up in his miserable simmer to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid.

Their stare was a burning glower he willfully ignored. Addie was on the cusp of being upset and being _upset,_ clenching their scarred fists and going rigid where they stood to keep their psy-surges under control.

Their telepathy came out like a whimper. _“I don’t want to be alone.”_

Nico bristled reflexively, glaring at them over his shoulder. _“I am not your fucking handler, Addie!”_

He did a suddenly fearful double take upon glimpsing the anger in their eyes. Those were probably going to be his famous last words. Addie shook with the effort to keep themself together, face screwed up in a snarl to redirect their mess of emotions back into righteous fury.

 _“I was_ **_worried_ ** _about you, you asshole!”_

Nico’s ears lowered, and he had half a mind to run as the other clone stomped closer to him. 

_“I didn’t know what to_ **_do!_ ** _I didn’t know what you_ **_did!_ ** _I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t woken up!”_ The fearsome snarl on their face twitched, and screwed up into a heartbreaking sob. _“Don’t do that again, dammit! You’re my friend, I don’t want to lose you!!”_

… Oh. That _hurt,_ perhaps more than the migraine itself. Behind the anger they were putting up as a front, Nico could see that they were deeply, _deeply_ afraid. Because of course they would be. He made them think he was going to die on them.

Even though every bone in his body ached, Nico stood to face the other clone. They looked truly vulnerable, more so than he’d ever seen them. Feeling things tended to do that, no matter how powerful you were. The Kazam pulled them into a hug, and they collapsed against him.

Addie buried their face and dug their fingers into his mane, and started... vibrating? It took Nico a confused moment to realize that they were _purring_ , and that it was a familiarly soothing sensation, somehow. He relaxed into the smaller clone’s arms as much as they did, the tension in his limbs melting away from the warmth of affection. _Arceus,_ he missed this.

_“I’m not going anywhere, Adds’, you’re stuck with me.”_

He heard and felt a soft ‘ _hmph’_ from somewhere within his shaggy neck fur. Addie rubbed against it, apparently enjoying the tactile sensation. _“Good. I like being around you.”_

Nico’s heart leapt into his throat, and he tried not to let on how much those words affected him. Well… of course they warmed up to him, they didn’t exactly have other people around. He was the only one who went out of his way for them, and he felt like he was just doing the bare minimum. The sort of treatment he would have wanted, and still craved, as someone who felt disconnected from everything. Ah, that had to be it. They clearly liked him because they didn’t have a choice.

With a deep sigh, Nico pulled away from them. But they were still together; their arms grabbing each other’s, like if they were to part one of them might have half a mind to pull the other back in. This felt even uncomfortably closer than when they embraced, for the Kazam was made to look into the eyes of the other clone. They were as different as one could get, surely, but their unnatural nature made for a unique connection. One that he wasn’t sure they even felt like he did. He may as well have been hallucinating that kinship, as only an affection-starved idiot like him could look at this literal _artificial goddess_ and think he had a chance in hell.

But that _instinct_ hit him there; where it only ever amounted to very little with Charlotte, and only brought an unsettling othering from other Kazam. Like how non-psychics thrived on physical touch, a psychic thrived on a connection with their own kind. He was starving for that kind of contact. Were they?

Might as well find out.

He’d seen other psychics do it. That close, intimate physical contact to facilitate the psychic communion. Brow to brow, mind to mind; the closest you can be to someone. Something that a non-psychic simply can't achieve, no matter how much you love them. Char could only meet him halfway, but she seemed to hunger for it more than he did. It was a compromised exchange of pleasure, where the physical intimacy she offered just wasn’t the same.

Nico felt the warmth of their hairless forehead against his. The drastic difference in the shape of their heads made it awkward as they tried to get a feel for it. He expected them to pull away. He didn’t expect it to _work._

And he didn’t expect to go numb. To melt, to fall suddenly into nothingness. To stop being physically himself for a single, liberating moment, as Adeline enthusiastically embraced the concept as well. Just pure energy, pure consciousness, meeting in the infinitesimal, atom-thin space between themselves. Sharing a flood of uncompressed, unfiltered Self that neither of them managed to convey before.

Nico felt Arceus’ divine light irradiate his flesh. He felt the sting of needles, the metal of restraints of a suit meant to torture him until his resistance wore down. He felt the dull pain, and then the utter, broken horror of seeing his fingers mangled irreparably just to teach him a ‘lesson’. But he also felt… soft, tiny human hands in his, so starkly in contrast to his that his too-young mind couldn’t process it, or why she said she was a girl, but he was only a pokemon.

He was learning so much, but not in a way that it felt like an added weight to his psyche. It felt like a breeze passing by him; leaving him with the feeling of it against his skin, but without being able to contain the air itself. Maybe he’d remember these things, and maybe he won’t, but the understanding he received felt even more fulfilling than receiving the secret of divine chaos itself. Did they feel that too? What did _they_ see? 

Oh god-

 _WHAT WERE_ **_THEY_ ** _GOING TO SEE??_

Nico pulled out of the connection so fast he thought he was going to black out all over again. His legs gave out, and he would have peacefully accepted the ground had Adeline not immediately grabbed him.

 _“Nico?!”_ They panicked, understandably, and the Kazam could only feebly pat their shoulder to let them know he was still present. Unsteadily, he was eased back into a standing position. His senses returned once more, and so did the headache with a vengeance.

 _“Wow,”_ Nico managed to say. He found that he and Addie were both breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the force behind their communion. They had a more harrowed look in their eyes, and he instantly felt like it was his fault.

 _“...Wow,”_ they mirrored back, at a loss for any other words. They held onto each other’s hands groundingly, and they both distractedly looked down to note the contrast - and similarities - they both had. When they could finally look each other in the eyes again, Addie’s took on that familiar endearing, if not vacant, brightness.

_“So… are we going to get malasadas now?”_

* * *

Nico looked up from his laptop, and reached over to grab a pastry. Several boxes of them sat between the clones relaxing on the bed. _“Bad news: my twenty-hour power nap just made us miss the most convenient ship departure to Hoenn I had in mind. I guess we can sneak in on a freighter if we absolutely have to…”_

_“Why, when’s the next ship?”_

_“Well, this Hoenn-based cruise liner is returning home on monday, so, three days?”_ Nico shrugged, relatively unbothered. _“We aren’t on a strict timetable here. And, well, personally the idea of a vacation after what we’ve been through is rather tempting.”_

Addie’s face lit up with dawning excitement. _“I’ve never been on a vacation before!”_

_“Neither have I, honestly.”_

Perhaps in the beginning of this trip, such a setback would have annoyed Nico more. Since then, he could admit he developed a fondness for the other clone. They both deserved to rest. Watching Addie grin to themself as they happily stuffed their face, he decided it was probably as good a time as ever to address the Donophan in the room.

 _“So, about what we did earlier,”_ Nico ran his fingers through his mane, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, and that it didn’t just blow his fucking mind. _“I didn’t realize it was going to be that intense, I never actually did anything like that before.”_

“Mrrp?” Addie had a mouthful of food, lost in the sauce on their dinner. Even if they didn’t need to speak, they were still preoccupied with quickly chewing and swallowing before answering with a reassuring grin.

_“I liked it. Just, y’know, maybe warn me next time?”_

Nico cracked a small, relieved smile. _“Of course, my apologies. I know that psychic communion on that level could be seen as intimate, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about it; humans tend to mistake it for something like, I dunno, kissing.”_

Addie tilted their head curiously. _“What’s kissing?”_

The Kazam sputtered, nearly choking on a mouthful. He had to pause and compose himself, patting down his disheveled fur. _“Well, ah, it’s a human gesture of affection wherein you, um, you press your lips toge-”_

Adeline cackled, delighting in flustering him. _“Oh, I already know what kissing is. I just wanted to see your reaction.”_

 _“...You little shit.”_ Nico narrowed his eyes at them, and let out a resigned sigh. _“So, one more thing: where is the specimen I uncovered before I blacked out?”_

 _“Oh!”_ Addie perked up, and bounced over to the other side of the bed. They pulled the specialized pokeball from the end-table drawer, to Nico’s muted horror.

_“Wait, you’ve just been letting that thing roll around in there next to the fucking in-room religious scriptures? I thought you would destroy it!”_

_“No?”_ Addie wrinkled their nose at him in sudden, acute offense. They kept the ball away from him, holding it close to their chest. _“Why would I do that?! They’re just a science experiment, like us!”_

 _“That is a genuinely unstable creature, Adeline; they were attempting to use that thing as a sort of manufactured Legendary that could adapt to their dimensional excursions.”_ Nico gave one look at how the other clone tried to protect it from him, and sighed. _“It’s not a sapient being like us, it’s a feral animal that they couldn’t even control. It’s too dangerous to exist!”_

 _“_ **_I’m_ ** _a manufactured Legendary!_ **_I’m_ ** _too dangerous to exist!”_ Addie countered, giving him a defiant snarl. _“Do I need to be put down, too?”_

 _“No, I just -_ **_ugh._ ** _”_ Nico ran an exasperated hand down his muzzle. _“You know if you release it, it’ll just become a danger to everyone on these islands-”_

**_“Them.”_ **

Nico froze at the look they gave him, and swallowed the lump in his throat. For some reason he would have preferred if they simply vaporized him, instead of killing him through the sheer betrayal in their expression. _“... Them. Sorry.”_

Adeline gave him a disappointed shake of their head, and got off the bed. _“If I deserved to be free, they deserve it too. I’m not arguing about this, I’m releasing them and you can’t stop me.”_

They already teleported away before Nico could get a word in, to his utter lack of surprise. The Kazam grumbled in defeat, replying to thin air. 

_“I know I can’t.”_

* * *

The surf wicked at the sand, cooled by the night air and lit by the moon above. Addie braced against the wind, distracted by the stars. To see the night sky in all its clarity after being freed was a memory that would always stick with them; it was fitting to have that be their new friend’s as well.

The clone’s hackles raised at their psychic perception picking up a familiar presence. They turned away from the approaching Alakazam, their nose in the air. Nico held his hands up in a disarming gesture as he flew closer, keeping a wide berth. _“I’m not stopping you, I’m just making sure you don’t get yourself hurt.”_

Addie answered with a stubborn huff, and walked out to where the shoreline gave them plenty of room for releasing their fellow science experiment. From a cautious distance, Nico braced himself as they tossed the pokeball.

The beast that reconstituted was immense, towering over the clone that freed them. An uncanny, truly patchwork chimeric creature; with a mix of feathers and fur smattering their hide unevenly before giving way to reptilian legs. Their head was encased in a cruel device, completely covering it as a part of some attempted restraint system. The monster roared, rearing up in front of the clone that stood bravely before them.

 _“It’s okay!”_ Addie called out to them, hope shining through their telepathy, _“It’s alright, you’re free now!”_

Understandably, the beast swatted a massive, clawed hand at them. Addie blinked out of the way reflexively. _“Wait! It’s alright!”_

Stubborn to the end, they took to trying to wrestle the torturous-looking helmet off the creature to little avail. The creature tried to shake them off, screeching angrily at their attempts, kicking up sand and surf. Nico grimaced as he watched the scene turn violent.

 _“It’s okay!”_ Addie insisted desperately, _“you’re like me, and I don’t want to hurt you! Just let me help!”_

They tried to get a psychic hold on the device, but the way the restraint mechanism dug into the creature’s neck from each attempt to force it off made them cry out in pain. Knowing they were just hurting them in the end was devastating to the clone.

Nico grumbled as he stepped in, finally, cursing himself the entire time. _“Hold on, hold on! I know how to open it, keep them still!”_

As powerful as the beast was, they were still held easily by Addie’s sheer psychic will. They seemed more confused by the telekinetic hold, if anything, their stressed breathing sounding hoarse from underneath the helmet. Nico flew up to the device’s level, observing the rows of spokes that jutted out from around their neck. Centering himself, he dug into that metaphorical box of memory…

It was a combination lock of sorts. Both as a restraint and as a failsafe; the wrong combination of turns could kill the poor thing. Thankfully, the very structure of the inner mechanisms of the device were at the Kazam’s fingertips. He began to turn the spokes carefully. The beast looked through the helmet at him with terrified eyes, uncertain as to whether he was saving or killing them. The answer came with a satisfying series of clicks as the right rotations were made, and the entire thing fell apart. Disassembled pieces tumbled into the water at the monster’s feet.

Nico grabbed Addie and blinked out of the way as the beast’s majestic headcrest unfurled, the night air hitting their face for possibly the first time ever. The chimeric experiment had a face that had been framed by metal; a corrective augment that became a part of what made the helmet so potentially deadly in the first place.

Addie wrenched their arm from Nico’s grasp and ran across the beach to meet them. To the Kazam’s surprise, the beast regarded them with a calmer disposition now. They looked down at the smaller clone curiously. Addie excitedly waved their arms. _“Hi!! See, I told you! You’re free now, it’s going to be okay!!”_

The creature lowered its large head to Adeline’s level, and cautiously sniffed. Still not willing to get anywhere near the beast if he could help it, Nico could only watch, and worry. Completely unaffected by the potential danger, Addie petted the fur and feathers of the new friend’s head like it was just a very, _very_ large dog.

_“You’re not an experiment anymore. You don’t belong to anybody anymore. You get to choose what to do with your life, and that can be a lot to take in, but it’s worth it. I promise. Even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes, life is beautiful.”_

The newly liberated creature bumped their metal beak against the clone in an affectionate manner, enjoying attention being lavished on them for the first time in their life. Addie, fully aware of what that’s like, happily obliged them. The creature eventually disengaged, taking in their surroundings with jerky, bird-like movements of their head. Their attention drawn to the openness of the sea, they seemed to make a decision.

The beast shook their mismatched hide, the fur and feathers settling down flat and sleek against their body. The scales of their back changed from a rough texture to smooth, uniform fish scales before the clone’s eyes; the openings of gills forming along their ribs as they made deep, deliberate breaths. Their head crest even looked more like a fin now, having spontaneously adapted in anticipation of going out to sea. With a final acknowledging glance towards their saviors, the creature trotted into deeper waters.

Nico floated over the sand to catch up to Addie, the both of them gawking at the strange pokemon slipping underneath the waves like any other semi-aquatic animal. And with that, it was gone.

 _“... Well,”_ Nico allowed himself a relieved chuckle, _“I hope Alola likes their new cryptid.”_

Smiling serenely towards the uncertain horizon, Addie leaned against him affectionately.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: mild sexual content

Without a need to travel a route like the old days, Char could simply take shuttles to each gym. She wasn’t the only one; the League was surprisingly mindful about making sure disabled kids got their training experience, too. As one of the oldest people on the bus, a few of the rookies gravitated towards her. She’d be annoyed if they were any other kind of young trainer, but she had a soft spot for these kids who reminded her of herself, having lost her leg so young. She wondered if that incident led to the Hoenn League providing these services in the first place.

They didn’t recognize her, and she preferred it that way. She kept the details of her stories brief and clean for the preteens, rolled up her pant leg and reminded them to be thankful the League wasn’t letting them on the route as recklessly as they did with her. She survived what she did out of both luck and pure, Jessop-grade stubbornness. Not everyone could pull off a full circuit, and that was okay. Don’t be a hyper-competitive ace, just to turn into a sad burnout like her.

The bus made its stop after a grueling, winding uphill drive through the foothills of Meteor Falls. Fall Arbor was a contest town rather than a gym town; Lavaridge needed its own lift to take trainers up the mountain,  _ thank Arceus. _ Even when she was young and spry, climbing Mt. Chimney on foot was a harrowing experience.

Taking the lift was a similarly harrowing experience as well, just for different reasons. In an attempt to take her mind off of the horror being in a gently swaying box suspended by wires and inching up a steep incline, Char focused on updating Mewtwo on her progress. He wasn’t someone who liked using a phone, but after the first few times he wandered off back in Kanto while forgetting to tell her where he went, being able to text was mandatory for Char’s sanity. Intermittent old messages above what she typed were just variations on asking where the hell he was and getting vague, descriptive answers.

_ ‘Takin the lift to the fire-type gym. Probably wont be a battle, I know flan and shes cool. Might introduce u some time.’ _

There was no immediate response like there usually would be. The sinking feeling in Char’s gut told her he was still upset. Though, her common sense reminded her that the clone was probably just taking a nap, or something. After staring at her own message and feeling the separation anxiety creep up on her again, she added a halfhearted  _ ‘Love u’ _ below it. She felt like she didn’t say it enough, after her previous relationship with a man who was too chickenshit to say it at all. She didn’t get a response, even when the lift reached the peak and she was very carefully disembarking. The only thing keeping her from wanting to kiss the safe, solid ground was her own pain.

Lavaridge, unsurprisingly, hadn’t changed a bit since she was last here. It was a historical site, after all. The hot springs were an ancient site steeped in Hoennese history; the waters heated by the dormant volcano was an apt representation of the Twin Titans, and the Hoennese had been using it as a site of healing and worship since there was such a thing as ‘kingdoms’.

The League had to negotiate to get a center and a gym up here. Because of that, the two establishments were heavily modified from the League’s usual branding, taking on a traditional look. The center was actually the same bathhouse that had always housed the hot springs, just with a reconfigurator bay and a Joy on hand at the front lobby. The gym leader’s family owned it for many generations; all hotblooded Hoenn natives, all living and dying on the same mountain for hundreds of years.

The older woman at the bathhouse desk was familiar, if not a little more battleworn since Char last saw her. Flannery’s Ma declined taking up the gym leader position in order to keep the springs running, leaving her daughter to take the mantle. Mrs. Cole, not unlike Roxanne, only had to get a good look at Char to recognize exactly who she was.

“Well if it isn’t Jessop’s lil’ girl, still kickin’ like a cockerel as always, eh?”

“Ah, not so much kickin’ these days, ma’am.” Char blushed at the warmth in the woman’s smile. The chickenstratched old Combusken breeder must have known her since the day she was born, and saw herself as honorary godmother to her friend’s only child. The line between friend and family was thin in their culture, even if they barely kept in touch.

The matronly woman gave her a sage nod, sizing up the now fully-grown Jessop girl, expertly picking out the signs of fatigue and pain that the trainer was too tired to hide. “You want a bath pass on the house? It’s a slow day, and you look like you need it.”

Char sighed, looking conflicted as she thought it over. “Was hoping to get a badge reissue from Flannery, actually. I don’t plan on stayin’ long-”

“Don’t plan on stayin’ long? After fifteen got-dang years!?” Mrs. Cole bellowed dramatically, and quickly got up to give the girl a rib-cracking hug. “Yer old man didn’t say a thing about you comin’ home! You have gotta  _ at least _ stay for dinner before you go off the mountain again!”

The old woman looked soft, but she could knock the wind out of Hariyama. If not by the strength of her arms, then by the strength of her perfume. Char wasn’t going anywhere, and she knew it.

Fannery’s Ma was right, Char did need that free soak in the hotsprings. With one of the smaller pools all to herself, she felt the pain and tension melt away in the heat, courtesy of the Father under the Mountain himself. Even if Groudon slept beneath the crust of Mt. Chimney, he still breathed life into the fertile volcanic soil, and into the healing waters.

The nostalgia was hitting her like a brick, even if Char’s memory of these springs were fuzzy. She relaxed with her team here just like this, long ago… probably the last few moments of calm they had before things started really going downhill. Char was thankful to be spared of those memories, at least.

Enjoying the peace and the relief from her bad knee, Char was too tired to care about the vulnerability of her nudity, even if the springs were public. Wasn’t the first time somebody saw a banged-up old trainer here with their tit out, wasn’t about to be the last. Hearing the soft padding of bare footsteps, Char just shut her eyes and hoped not to glimpse some elderly man’s whole hog out again.

Instead, the Most Beautiful Woman in the World had to recognize her, and immediately go over to reacquaint herself.

“So, you gonna doze off in here like one of the old timers without even poppin’ in to say hello?”

Char jerked out of her peaceful lull from the familiar voice, failing to look merely pleasantly surprised to see Flannery standing at the edge of the pool. The tanned, tattooed woman was wearing only a towel, and Char only had a few seconds to process that she was about to see what was under it.

Naturally as can be, the fellow trainer dropped the towel at her feet, and climbed in across from her. Flannery’s dark and sharp eyes briefly flicked tellingly across the map of battle damage on Char’s body, visible under the water.

“Damn, the route’s done a number on you, pipsqueak.”

Char was glad for the heat to give her an excuse for being redfaced. She tried to look at literally anything that wasn’t the woman’s tan-lined body. “Well, it ain’t all from the route. Mostly it’s just trouble followin’ me around, y’know? Haven’t actually been on a route in years.”

Flannery nodded, her expression turning somber. “Good to see you in most of one piece, Jessop.”

“You too, Cole.”

Flannery relaxed, resting her arms over the edge of the pool and, unfortunately, lifting her chest out of the water. Char stubbornly denied her smitten younger self’s desire to see her old crush in the nude, even if she aged…  _ very _ well, especially for a fire type specialist. They tended to end up more maimed than other trainers, for obvious reasons. Flannery had her share of burn scars, particularly on her hands and arms, but she wasn’t as visibly affected by them as Char was. Char remembered Flannery’s grandmother, with her patches of pink skin and an arm amputated above the elbow. She expected Flannery to look more like that. Granted, seeing a grizzled veteran Flan’ would have made Char die of thirst.

“So, Ma told me you wanted a badge reissue?”

“Yeah. Takin’ the cup challenge again, since apparently the last one being an honorary award don’t mean shit to the League if you want compensation.”

Flannery frowned. “They ain’t giving you any disability?” 

“Honey, the only thing I got out of that was a lump sum of hush money that my parents burned through  _ for _ me. I lost my leg  _ ‘off the route’ _ , after all.” Char sneered, and stared off to the side. “I guess the League’s better about it now, but back then I was a liability, not a victim.”

“You’d think after that whole…  _ thing _ what happened afterwards, they should’ve given you at least somethin’...”

“I’m just glad they didn’t throw my ass in jail as soon as I woke up.” Char shrugged, and risked a brief glimpse to see the hardened look in Flannery’s eyes. That stern but empathetic look of someone who understood the inherent danger of training. Flannery and her kin weren’t as hard-nosed as Char and hers, but there was a somber acknowledgment of the stark reality their life had. Being fire specialists, and all.

“So, you’re lookin’ to coast along on a champ’s bonus for the rest of your retirement? Smart move.” Flannery grinned, as bright and lovely as when she was fifteen, and Char was just a mousey thirteen year old. “I can write up a reissue for ya. The only challenge you’ll be gettin’ here is dinner with the folks.”

“That’s not so bad. I’ll be goin’ to Dewford next, now  _ that’s _ gonna be a gauntlet.”

“Phew, yeah, your brother’s from the Granite Clan, ain’t he? That’s gotta be one helluva family reunion.”

“Just lookin’ forward to seeing cousin Brawly again.” Char smiled wistfully. The Hariyama dojo was a place she thought she’d spend her post-trainer career in. A peaceful but not uneventful life, passing down wisdom and perfecting the art of battle. Being around people who understood her.

Flannery nodded, the conversation winding down as Char started to relax around her. She dared to glimpse the fading symbol of groudon on the gym leader’s shoulder, wreathed in flames and marred slightly by a large, pale burn scar. When their eyes met, Char quickly glanced away from her sly look.

“Somethin’ on your mind, makuhita?”

Char forced out a nervous laugh. It had been a while since she had been reminded of just how embarrassing she was around the kind of girls she liked; nothing had really changed since she was a rookie too young to acknowledge what that meant. All she knew then was that Flannery was everything she wanted to be; a young trainer just out of her first circuit, coming home with badges and a modest quarterly gauntlet title. That’s all Char thought she saw when she looked at her, back then. Then puberty hit, of course.

“I’m just… thinkin’ about what’s on the road ahead.” Char shrugged, resting her arms on the edge of the pool similarly to mirror her partner’s casual demeanor. “What’s changed around here since I’ve been gone, anyways? Who’s giving out badges these days?”

“Well, lessee,” Flannery looked up at the beams of the ceiling as she searched her memory. “Roxanne turned down being head of the Academy to keep Rustboro Gym full time. Brawly’s still at the dojo, no surprises there, and he got hitched last year too. Married a daughter of the mountain that kicked his ass a few too many times. Wattson passed back in ‘21… old age, if you’d believe it.”

Char made a disheartened sound, and Flannery nodded.

“Thing is, after he passed, the League went ahead and started going through with all those wild-ass renovation plans he kept pitching to them, and then some. Mauville’s unrecognizable now; it’s like one a’ them Silph Co. malls, whole thing’s indoors.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, dude! Somethin’ about it being a prototype for pre-planned cities, or something. ‘Arcologies’, or whatever. Y’know, in case Groudon decides to make the Chimney blow for good.” Flannery laughed that off, as though either the idea was impossible, or simply accepted in its inevitability. “Winny came out as trans a while back, stepped down and got into conservation or something. Hadn’t heard from them since. The twins burnt out at fifteen like the rest of us, separated and went off on their own thing. I hear they ain’t speakin’ to each other, dunno what happened. Wallace ran off with some Unovan supermodel for a few years, somethin about a spat with Wal-”

She abruptly cut herself off, frozen with a Deerling-in-the-headlights sort of look as she realized who she was about to mention. Char just gave her a stern look and a sigh.

“I already know about Wally, Flan’.”

“I think he’s goin’ by Walter, these days.” Flannery smoothed a hand down her frizzy black hair, which was tied back into a wild ponytail tipped with red dye. “Look, I just don’t want to trip up your  _ stuff, _ or anything. Your dad’ll kill me, for one.”

“‘S fine. I’m not too bothered by it anymore.” Char mumbled. “Say, you wouldn’t know what he’s been up to lately, would you? For a Champion, I ain’t seen anything about him in any League stuff…”

“Well, he’s kind of a recluse, nowadays.” Flannery looked put on the spot now, showing hesitance that Char hadn’t seen since they were kids. “Don’t see him much outside of the quarterlies.”

“Does he look… sick, to you?”

The burned woman’s eyebrows rose, slightly asymmetrically from a Combusken scratch over one of them. “I mean, he still looks as much a scrawny little Unovan boy as ever. He doesn’t exactly have stage presence, but  _ man _ if he doesn’t have a helluva team on his belt.”

Char squinted, trying to discern what exactly the gym leader was trying not to say. Flannery was going to keep beating around the bush until she said the magic word.

“You still think he’s got a Gardevoir around?”

Flannery’s dark eyes flicked towards the walls, the stone floors, the steam wafting off the water. Anything that wasn’t Char. “Well if he does, I haven’t seen it.”

“Hmm.” Char noted how just her questioning made the atmosphere change. It wasn’t  _ just _ her sickness, was it?

Flannery snapped back into a more nonchalant demeanor, smiling disarmingly at the woman she might have gathered she had just a bit of an advantage over. “So, you still want that battle, or do you just want me to sign your reissue form like a pussy?”

Char felt her face burn, and knew she couldn’t pass that off as the heat of the springs forever.

* * *

The Lavaridge Gym had a similarly rustic look, mostly underground and perpetually warm from its close proximity to the lava that ran beneath the town. The steamy atmosphere was the most positive wave of nostalgia Char had received yet. Her memories of the gym were only slightly marred from the black spots, though she still inherently knew that back in the day her Lava Badge run was the calm before the storm. After this, it all went downhill. The moments before Venus evolved into something terrible.

Flannery was in her element, dressed in revealing clothing befitting the heat, leaving Char to stubbornly overheat in her jacket and long pants. The gym leader had her own Blaziken; a dull-colored hen that had a specially made muzzle and a harness that kept her arms loosely retrained, ensuring no lashing out at strangers. Char couldn’t even get farther than a mid-grade harness and a fireproof leash; muzzling Mercury was a two-person job, and the only one who would have helped her was back in Dewford.

Upon release, Mercury immediately puffed up and crowed at the hen, who returned the call. Char snorted at the rooster’s confused head tilt in response, as if he wasn’t expecting to hear another Blaziken. It was no wonder, considering how few of them there were outside of Hoenn. She carefully walked him into position on the arena platform.

Flannery had a strong hand on the hen’s restraints, confident and proud. In the prime of her life. Char, who had to hold onto her own bird’s harness with both hands and a prayer, felt just  _ slightly _ less adequate. Mercury was used to the untamed, often deadly battles that went down off the route. When was the last time he was even in a  _ gym? _

“Got your cock under control, buddy?” Flannery smirked at her low blow of an innuendo. Char gritted her teeth and forced it into a smile.

“Of course. Think you can handle it, Cole?”

“Your cock, or your bird?” The gym leader cackled, and unsnapped the restraints keeping her hen’s arms bound. Flustered, Char shakily let go of her Blaziken.

_ “Merc’, Hi-Jump!” _

_ “Pepper, Blaze Kick!” _

Both trainers sprang back to dodge the flurry of flame and ash that would soon follow. The two Blaziken only vaguely followed orders; Mercury opened with a flying kick, knocking the hen off-center in her own fire-laced low sweep. Between the trainer’s commands, they grappled and scratched, claws scrabbling against the bare stone of the floor and sending sparks flying.

Char wasn’t concerned about Mercury losing. If anything, she was more worried about what Mercury might do if he won. She had to pull him off of more than a few trained pokemon that he only saw as food. He was already ablaze from the flame producing glands on his legs and arms, creating an impressive display. The hen, however, kept her flames to a low burn, despite Flannery’s use of gym-mandated fire attacks. She was clearly trained for official matches. Matches that were safe and structured.

_ “Mercury!” _ Char barked over the din of the fighting birds. “Cool off,  _ now!” _

Flannery laughed her off. “It’s all good, man! You know we’re used to turnin’ up the heat around here!”

Char hesitated to object, watching their Blaziken continue their deadly, fiery dance. Mercury’s crest unfurled proudly, focusing on movement rather than contact. The hen led him on, getting lower to the ground. The rooster appeared to flank and tackle her, and Char held her breath.

Instead of raking his talons across his opponent’s throat, or digging them into her spine, Mercury briefly and harmlessly treaded on the hen’s back. Char flushed red as she caught on to what he was doing. Flannery went into a fit of laughter

“N- Mercury,  _ NO!  _ Get offa her!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Flannery insisted with a wheeze, trying to compose herself. “I was gonna get her bred on the weekend anyways, you just saved me a trip to the coast!”

Char averted her eyes from the mating pair, feeling more than a little embarrassed, and not because of the scene. Flannery finding it hilarious didn’t help, when all Char could think of was the horror that would have been on her face had the match turned bloody. The trainer scowled, unamused.

“This better count as a win, Cole.”

* * *

To Char’s quiet mortification, Flannery bragged about the incident between their two birds over dinner, in front of her ma, her kin, and Father Groudon below. The trainer would have laughed it off in any other circumstance, perhaps, but she was just… too used to things going very,  _ very _ wrong. Negotiating the reissue as a ‘stud fee’ was a fortunate twist.

Flannery had a family built on Hoennese traditions; people were inducted into it regardless of blood, though the closest circle of members varied from person to person. For Flan’, she had her mother, her father, and her second mother; her mother’s former sister-in-arms. Then, there was the family that  _ they _ all kept, and so on, and so forth. Those may have not been present, but Char was sure she’d need only mention them to get a detailed family tree rundown.

It was a hectic, jovial family dinner; the kind Char was grateful to be invited to, but never necessarily a part of. As a young girl, her family was simply her mother and father, for the most part. Her mother was from the mainland, a Johtoan woman of her own principles, and her father respected that. No other spouses or lovers, no siblings-in-arms or adopted kin. Just the three of them, bitterly alone in the sticks.

Char’s heart sank a little when Flannery introduced her to her husband. She still had to shake the cobwebs of dour mainland norms out of her head, after fifteen miserable years of Kanto’s xenophobic, hetero-monogamous  _ nonsense. _ It was a breath of fresh air to be introduced to Ma Cole’s Hariyama wife, and the husband they shared. It really was a relief to be around her people again, in a way she didn’t notice until now.

The Cole family accepted her happily as a guest, though that meant being the center of attention. Char weathered the subtle pressure of the curious questions and prompts to tell her tales. Flannery’s husband, a brick shithouse of a man in the Ranger’s Union, got her attention from across the table.

“Hey Jessop, if you’re lookin’ to head east on the circuit soon, you might want to wait until after the memorial day before headin’ out. The ferries from Slateport to Lillycove are already booked solid. Mourners, n’ all that.”

Char blinked. “Memorial day?”

“Yeah, Memorial for The Day of the Collapse?” The ranger looked as confused as she did. “I thought you were a survivor, you didn’t know there’s a holiday for it?”

“Well uh, I haven’t been back home for a  _ while, _ is the thing.” Char shrugged off the unease that set in for her. “And, well, I can’t say I remember much of that time in my life. Coma, n’ all that.”

Flannery looked up from her food to gawk. “Damn, Jessop. You’re a tough sonuvabitch.”

“Guess I am.”

The ranger’s expression turned melancholy. “I lost half my blood kin that day. All Sootopolis natives, goin’ generations back, proud as hell about it. They never found the bodies… Mother take ‘em, they’re a part of the sea now.”

“Dunno how I’m still alive, to be honest.” Char picked at her plate, bits and pieces of clarity amongst the spots in her memory coming back to her. “Lost the family Onix trying to get out of the rubble. He was already old - I guess exhaustion was what done him in. My travelling Skarmory died when the crater rim debris smashed her plating in; she was trying to get me out of there. We fell out of the sky… and into the water… I wake up six months later and I can’t recognize my parent’s faces no more. Can’t speak, can’t hold a pencil to write for help, can’t read the words in front of me to begin with. But, that’s a whole nother story-”

Char looked up to see a room full of harrowed eyes on her, deathly silent as her words sucked all the life and joy from the dinner table. Her appetite vanished to make way for a bitter, miserable feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“... May I be excused?”

It was a beautiful sunset. The top of Mt. Chimney was probably the best spot in Hoenn to watch it. Char took solace in the moment to take her mind off of… everything, reminding herself that she was home. She was home even if she wasn’t the person who left here in the first place. She was seeing her home region through new eyes, with a clear and more stable head. It made moments like these feel like a dream, like a fleeting, final hallucination of a dying girl while the world literally collapses around her.

Char was jolted out of the lull she was in by Flannery, joining her on the ridge overlooking the western coast below and beyond. The gym leader gave her a hardened but concerned look.

“You alright there, ace?”

Hugging her good knee, Char sighed tiredly. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Head’s just not been in the game since I got home, I guess.”

The two trainers sat together for a while, watching the blazing sun sink slowly towards the line of the horizon. The sky was a painted canvas of all the colors the union of sun and sea made; intensifying as they approached a crescendo that would fade the world into darkness. A sight that was the same halfway across the world was still no less beautiful.

Searching for words to fill the silence, Char settled for the obvious. “Man, I missed these sunsets.”

Fingers brushed against her back. Flannery sounded much closer now. “The sunsets missed you, too.”

Char immediately blushed, and sputtered with inelegant laughter. “That had to be the worst pickup line I ever hear-”

She saw it coming. Even so, her intuition and decades of holding that candle still couldn’t prepare her for Flannery’s opportunistic kiss. Char remained frozen in stunned silence during the lifetime-stretching seconds it took, and let out a ragged breath when the burned trainer pulled away. Her mouth was dry. Her lips tingled. Flannery gave her a cocksure smile.

“C’mon Jessop, I always knew. You ain’t foolin’ nobody.”

“I- I-” Char was at a loss. Part of her didn’t want to explain herself at all. Another part of her was thinking about who she had waiting for her at the base of the mountain. “Flan’, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Flannery sat back and shrugged nonchalantly, though her smile had just a tinge of disappointment “‘S all good. You wouldn’t want to be cooped up here on the mountain, anyways.”

“I just - I brought a nice man back from Kanto, and I know he wouldn’t object, but…” Char ran a hand through her tangled hair nervously, looking away from her old crush’s placid look. “We’re just a long way off from talkin’ about that kinda stuff.”

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” Flannery reassured. “Me n’ my own have been talking about it, and honestly you showing up sealed the deal. I’d prefer something more mutual between the three of us, anyways. Like my folks.”

“Yeah.” Char reminded herself of all the complications that would arise, should she agree out of impulse. As lonely as she felt at this moment, she reminded herself that it was fleeting. One of the most powerful pokemon in the world was waiting back home, and that was enough for her.

“Personally, I’d rather stake out my own clan than marry into one, anyways.”

Flannery gave her a warm pat on the back, and left it at that. Together, they watched the ink of night stain the sky from either edge of the world around them.


	13. Chapter 13

Without Char around as a unifying reason to tolerate one another, the chilly disposition between Mewtwo and Norman became cold and avoidant. Mewtwo wondered if Norman only abstained from genuinely treating him badly because he was afraid of the clone’s power. Had they been humans and equals, would he be subject to abuse? Or would Norman be more decent, in that circumstance?

Mewtwo didn’t linger any longer than he absolutely had to. After a day of mourning and having his existence ignored by the man who only let him stay out of basic hospitality, the psychic had to make a decision. He couldn’t stay here, but where would he go? He didn’t exactly have family here… 

Wait, yes he did.

For the first time since Char cornered him at his weakest and captured him for Giovanni, Mewtwo set off on his own. Things would be different, now. He was no longer a frightened escapee, but a clone that could be self reliant.

It helped that he knew where to go, instead of aimlessly wandering lost. Mewtwo only had to follow a ferry from Petalburg to Dewford. It was easy - too easy, even when he had to evade notice from trainers and their pokemon alike. He could simply remove himself from their memories, and manipulate their very perception to not process he was there at all. Functionally invisible, he could watch people go about their lives, playing their own roles.

Dewford was the largest of a cluster of islands just off the coast of the main landmass of Hoenn, whose vague silhouette could be seen on the horizon on a clear day. A town smaller than Petalburg had formed between a stretch of beach and the island’s steep, rocky hills. Mewtwo couldn’t immediately see it while approaching the isle, but as the ferry began to circle around to the port he could see where the rocky cliff face had been carved out and built upon. The town did not begin or end at the human-made dwellings, but in the cave system the local Hariyama called home.

Most of the trainers disembarking were headed to the center or the dojo. There wasn’t much else for them here. Mewtwo watched as a few of the Hariyama passengers that travelled alone went to the opposite end of town, to the cliffs. Far above them, nobody paid heed to the strange, pale pokemon as he snuck between rooftops and hiding spots. All the while, he kept a lookout for Yanna, though how he was going to find him was uncertain.

It didn’t help that many of the Hariyama here were similarly battleworn, with placid, disciplined minds. With so many other Hariyama returning from their training, it made going off of mentions of family reuniting difficult, as well. The clone wasn’t running out of Hariyama to scan, but he was starting to run out of hiding places. Crouching in a tree, Mewtwo focused on finding his friend.

_“Hey mister!”_

The loud and sudden telepathic message made Mewtwo stumble and fall, only just catching himself out of instinct. A couple of Abra with red and black fur blinked onto nearby branches.

 _“Hey mister, where are your whiskers?”_ one asked, gesturing to their own scruffy muzzle. 

Mewtwo blanched, pulling up the hood of his sweater to better hide his neck cord. _“I, ah, well you see-”_

 _“Why are you white?”_ the other kitt asked, pointing excitedly. _“Are you a shiny?”_

_“I-I’ve just got a mutation...”_

**“Guys, wait for me!”** A gravelly little voice rumbled below them. A young Makuhita was already climbing the lower branches determinedly, trying to keep up with the young psychics.

The interrogation wasn’t over. _“You’re really tall! Are you an Alakazam?”_

_“Are you here to see Auntie?”_

_“Why do your feet look like that?”_

Flustered, Mewtwo tried to blink away. A hard yank on his tail interrupted his focus on an escape route, and pulled him to the ground.

Mewtwo went from landing ungracefully in the dirt to being hoisted upside down. A massive, aging Hariyama woman lifted the clone up to properly scowl at him, holding the clone effortlessly with one large hand. **“What are you, and what are you doing with these children?”**

The voice of the elder rattled the psychic’s bones. _“I-I-I wasn’t doing anything with them, they were harassing_ **_me_ ** _!”_

**“State your business here immediately.”**

Mewtwo’s hind legs kicked in the air uselessly. _“I’m - I’m looking for someone! He’s um, Th-Third Son Under Granite, Fourteenth of the Clan of Shou, uh-”_

The Hariyama squinted suspiciously. **“I am Shou. What business do you have with my nephew?”**

Wiggling uselessly, the clone winced in pain from being held by the tail. _“H-he’s my friend! I wanted to visit him!”_

Mewtwo was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, causing the young pokemon watching to break out in guffaws. Looking up warily at the elder Hariyama, he found her holding a hand out for him. **“You’re about the least graceful Kazam I ever met, pale one.”**

Despite himself, Mewtwo laughed nervously as he was pulled to his feet. The Hariyama held out her other palm flat for him, offering a proper greeting.

**“They call me Shou, matron of this Clan Under Granite.”**

Remembering himself, Mewtwo returned the gesture by placing his palm on top of hers, though his hand was so miniscule in comparison he felt like his reciprocation wasn’t good enough.

_“Um, your nephew calls me ‘Two.’”_

* * *

Mewtwo felt especially vulnerable, being walked through the town. Shou made no attempt to hide him from the world and the curious stares it held. Her hand on his shoulders at least felt like a protective ward in itself; if she was head of the clan, surely she had the authority to keep him safe?

At best, he could only keep his hood up to hide the most bizarre aspect of his anatomy. Maybe he could pass himself off as a mutated Kazam - the local Kazam already looked different than the golden ones from Kanto. There were a couple of the red psychics around, with their black limbs and pale Kadabra stars. He could at least exchange equally confused glances with them, passing by on their way to the dojo.

The clone stopped just short of the building, tentatively tapping the rough arm of his escort. _“E-excuse me, ma’am, but I really can’t let myself be seen by so many trainers-”_

 **“Nobody is allowed to capture you without your permission.”** The matron had a blunt and direct edge to her reassurance. Mewtwo was starting to see the family resemblance.

The training classes in session went on uninterrupted as they entered the dojo, with the students maintaining focus on their practice. The human trainers ignored the Makuhita and adolescent Hariyama as they followed signs pointing them towards the holder of the local gym badge. Luckily, the clone wasn’t being led in that direction.

With practiced delicacy, Shou nudged open a sliding door. The Makuhita occupying this room were younger than the other, proper students, all chubby little cubs with rosy cheeks and adoring eyes as they recognized the older lady instantly. The room reverberated with delighted, attention seeking cries for their aunt, and soon she was being swarmed. Mewtwo cracked a smile while watching the otherwise immensely intimidating old woman’s face soften. Shou bent down to pick up three cubs in each arm. Others simply climbed her like a tree.

The Hariyama that had been reading to the class cleared his throat, looking up from his book. **“Children, please return to your seats-”**

Mewtwo recognized the familiarity in Yanna’s voice and mental presence the moment Yanna could register the strange pokemon under the concealing hoodie. The clone waved sheepishly.

_“Hey.”_

After placing the armfuls of her nephews and nieces down, Shou clapped a powerful, heavy hand on Mewtwo’s back. **“Do you know this one, middle child?”**

Mewtwo felt the other Hariyama’s self-consciousness resurface, and the gears clicked in his mind. Hearing it spoken aloud, he realized that the name ‘Yanna’ more or less translated to a nickname based on their word for ‘middle child’. Or, more directly, ‘third-born’. Yanna’s name was, ironically, _‘Three’._

Yanna’s ears lowered under the stern gaze of his aunt. **“Yes, he’s a chosen brother-in-arms.”**

Despite the tension that came from him admitting that, Mewtwo still felt a spark of pride from being seen as a brother, in some respects. Shou gave the clone another scrutinizing glare, but it wasn’t as full of _disappointment_ like it was when she looked at Yanna. Mewtwo was suddenly seeing Char and Norman all over again.

**“... I see. Is this one a guest, then?”**

Yanna clasped his hands together submissively. **“I ask if you would allow him to stay.”**

Shou rumbled disapprovingly, her eyes trailing down to the gaggle of children that were watching the confrontation with rapt, curious attention. The matron let out a resigned sigh.

**“Very well. He is your responsibility, boy; don’t disappoint me.”**

With a curt nod to Mewtwo and the class, Shou left the clone in the room and closed the door. Yanna’s posture sagged as the tension of the conversation left him in an instant. He looked over his class.

**“Alright, back to your seats. You as well, Two; you still have much to learn.”**

Mewtwo awkwardly stepped around and over Makuhita that tried to stage whisper their own curious questions as he passed. He took a seat far in the back corner, and watched the Hariyama return to his place in the lesson. The clone politely held up a hand.

_“Um, what’s this class about, anyways?”_

Yanna’s expression softened as he held up the cover of the thick, Hariyama-sized book. **“Pre-Reformation history. Tales of the old warriors, and the lessons they teach us.”**

* * *

Hundreds of years ago, before humans who kept pokemon called themselves _‘trainers’_ and before the League redefined war-torn, vulnerable countries as _‘regions’_ , Hoenn was a kingdom with two kings. Humankind and pokekind had found balance here; two polar opposites, in sync with one another, both equally a part of this world. Beneath them, the Mother and Father that gave shape to the world slept peacefully, after a millennia spent at odds. Mewtwo wasn't sure if he understood what bits and pieces he learned of this mythos so far, let alone the concept of myth. Was it simply history that wasn't true? Metaphor to explain unexplainable events? All the questions he had sounded too embarrassing to say in front of children.

A massive horn sounded somewhere outside. The Makuhita nearly tore down the door trying to leave all at once, forcing their teacher to bellow a command to leave in a more orderly fashion. Mewtwo watched the cubs collect themselves and leave in an orderly fashion, low-key intrigued. Children were like strange creatures in themselves, to a clone who was never a child.

Mewtwo assisted in cleaning up the classroom, happy to simply be useful. Yanna looked like he had more than enough on his plate, relieved to have the clone around and the cubs gone.

**"Reading to the cubs isn't the worst thing they could put me through. Hardly the penance I expected."**

_"What did you expect them to make you do?"_

**"Work on my father's fishing boat, maybe."** The Hariyama had a pensive look as he carefully put children's books in order. **"But, I am the one with the literature degree, so I guess they wanted to put it to use."**

Mewtwo nodded, using his telekinesis to sweep the floor without need of a broom. _"So, um, do you mind if I ask some stupid questions?"_

**"You must ask stupid questions before you can ask the intelligent ones."**

Two took that as a yes. _"Are you really related to everybody here?"_

Yanna cracked a smile. **"This is a big clan, it spans across several families. If you mean related by blood, then that number is only halved. Even some of my students are younger siblings."**

_"That sounds… confusing."_

**"Why do you think I must use my proper name? It's less complicated in smaller clans. The clan under Granite is more like a village under traditional ways. A place with a leader, not a League."**

_"And that's Mrs. Shou, right?"_ Mewtwo thought his question was innocent enough, only to shrink back from Yanna's critical look.

**"It would be wise not to call her that. Call her Aunt or by her name; she remains unmarried for a reason."**

_"Sorry,"_ the clone turned pink. _"I gotta ask the stupid questions first, right?"_

His friend rumbled with a small chuckle, and led him out of the classroom.

Mewtwo was still on edge, being so exposed and out in the open. Having Yanna around didn't help as much as he hoped. Still, the looks he got we're only fleeting, as he seemed to simply melt into the background of a busy town. He was led to the Hariyama side of the port first, where fishing skiffs were being unloaded.

 **"Humans thought first to make boats that could go out on the open ocean, but we had to teach them to fish."** Yanna gestured to the fishermen, who were mostly Hariyama with only a few human peers.

A Hariyama with tattoos tracing his massive arms recognized the battleworn fighter, and approached with a broad, expressive grin. Two felt the urge to hide as he got closer, but it was too late.

**"My boy! You finally brought a husband home? Your sires have to hear about this-"**

**"He is** **_not_ ** **my lover."** Yanna was firm and quick to correct him, making a point to step away from the psychic. The tattooed Hariyama laughed that off, and caught his embarrassed child off guard by grappling him without warning.

Mewtwo gawked as the men struggled a bit for a moment, before Yanna could reverse the hold and slam his own father into the ground. The older fighter seemed delighted to be defeated.

**"Alright, alright! You know I had to do that to you at least once."**

Yanna grumbled, still slightly red from embarrassment and exertion. **"He is my brother-in-arms, and my sister's lover. I would not impose on that."**

 **"Of course, of course,"** the older man was still chuckling as he stood. When he turned his attention towards the strange psychic his son brought home, Mewtwo paled. **“You’re a weird lookin’ Kazam, skinny.”**

 _“O-oh, um, my name’s… ‘Two’.”_ Mewtwo stumbled over trying to recreate how Yanna said his name, still uncertain on how he should present himself. The huge fighter snorted with laughter.

 **“No need to do that, spoonbender; we know what you’re saying already, as long as you aren't putting images in our head.”** he held out a hand, and Mewtwo shook his finger timidly. **“You can call me Koru. Second-spouse of the heir to Granite, first-born to Rou, third under the Meteor. Did you get all that?”**

_“Uh, I think so-”_

**“I’m yankin’ your tail, Kadabra!”** Kuro bellowed, the resonance of his voice rattling the psychic’s ribcage. Yanna gave him an unimpressed glower.

**“Please sire, he’s very soft. Be nice to him.”**

**“I have a haul to take in, still.”** the elder Hariyama paused to give his son a patronizing rub on the bare crown of his head. Yanna rumbled with embarrassment. **“I’ll bother you more at dinnertime.”**

**“Mother bless you, sailor.”**

Koru laughed again at his son’s dour tone, and left to return to his skiff. Mewtwo was still agawk, his wide eyed expression making Yanna’s face soften from amusement.

**“My father by blood, as you can see. I am his first child, though most can not see the resemblance.”**

_“Ah, o-okay.”_

Mewtwo let himself be led away once again, taking comfort in knowing his friend had a more solid idea of where to go than he did. The Hariyama sighed wistfully, looking over the carved-out cliff face they approached. **“They used to say I was my aunt’s child by temperament alone. Now, I’m not so sure. I think I’m more bothered by how little things have changed here, compared to how I’ve changed on the route.”**

 _“Well, maybe you’ll get used to it?”_ Mewtwo looked up at his scruffy face hopefully. Yanna grunted dismissively.

**“A warrior who cannot settle down after training is seen as a misfortune. Hariyama like me usually exile themselves from their kin and continue to fight rather than struggle to adapt to a civilian’s life. It is not a noble goal like the old myths, it's a tragedy that tears families apart.”**

Yanna used a broad hand to steer the psychic into one of the doorways cut into the solid rock of the cliffs. A door of graying, battered wood was opened by pulling on a rope, and the scent of cooking hit Mewtwo in the face.

Whether the Hariyama den was once a natural cavern repurposed, or a room mined from the rock was uncertain. It didn’t seem to matter; the den was built exactly to the needs of the fighters, with broad hallways and unshakable walls. Some furniture in itself was carved from rock, with things like wooden table surfaces and cushions for seats added afterwards. Wailmer bone art decorated the room alongside framed photographs of happy, mixed-species families, illuminated by human-made electric lamps. It was cool inside, almost frigid compared to the warmth of the island sun. A small fire pit in a depression at the center of the main room provided a meager warmth from glowing embers.

On a stone and linen-cushioned couch, the titular Shou was once more swarmed by small children, all trying to clumsily braid her long, graying hair. From the looks of it, she was trying to teach them. Another adult Hariyama was knitting something with massive bone needles, and similarly thick thread.

Yanna’s ears perked up when he saw the knitted Hariyama. He subtly pushed Mewtwo closer. **“Two, this is my sire by blood. Introduce yourself.”**

Mewtwo didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter. He sheepishly held out his unsteady palm for the fighter. _“H-hello, I’m M- I’m Two, I’m visiting your son-”_

The Hariyama raised his heavy brow at the greeting, and Mewtwo froze in fear. Yanna quickly, forcefully tilted his narrow wrist with two fingers, making him present his palm at its side.

 **“You are not. A leader of any clan. Do not show your palm so recklessly.”** Yanna’s rumbling whisper in his ear was strained, and Mewtwo could sense the Hariyama was taking twice the hit from the social faux pas that he was.

Yanna’s sire returned the gesture when the correction was made. A huge but soft palm brushed against the dark pads of the clone’s hand. **“Interesting visitor. Are you from the mainland?”**

 _“Yeah… sorry.”_ Mewtwo tried most of all not to cast a glance towards Shou, as he knew that one stern look for her would probably be fatal.

 **“Don’t worry about it. Call me Jun.”** Yanna’s sire had a soft and polite smile that Two could easily associate with his son. The Hariyama gestured towards the matronly woman across from him. **“However, it is polite to introduce yourself to the head of the clan first and foremost.”**

 **“Already done so.”** Shou grunted, her eyes closed as if in deep thought as the children worked on her hair. A red Abra offered her an awkward braid for her to inspect, and she pinched it between her thumb and forefingers to examine the handiwork.

Jun nodded to his son and his guest. **“We’re bringing the pot out soon. Yanna, could you keep this going for a while?”**

He handed the knitting project over to Yanna, who was quick to take it. **“Yes sire, of course.”**

Mewtwo took the cue to sit down alongside his friend, still averting his eyes away from the chieftainess on the other side of the room. Yanna provided a welcome distraction by showing him the unfinished knitting. **“Watch me for a moment. You have a Kazam’s memory, and It’s important that you learn these things if you’re going to stay here.”**

 _“Okay,”_ Mewtwo studied how the Hariyama’s huge fingers skillfully manipulated the bone needles, completing a few stitches until the psychic could figure out the process.

After Jun left, Shou began to wave away the children finishing up her hair. The mass of amateur braids was a chaotic, lopsided mess dotted with flowers and ribbons, as the cubs and kitts had decorated their individual braids to their liking. The matron looked at a few before flipping them over her shoulders with a resigned little smile.

**“You all did very well. Run along now, and I’ll start dinner.”**

Two started to carefully make a few stitches by himself, gaining some confidence when he and Yanna were the only ones left in the room. His eyes flicked warily towards the door the chieftainess went through.

_“I don’t get it. Everybody seems so… fine with me being around. Do I really look that much like a Kazam?”_

**“Mostly in the face,”** Yanna noted. **“I’m sure they are quite curious about you, but it is simply impolite to bring attention to these things. It helps that there are very few Kantonian Kazam here anymore.”**

 _“Yeah, I noticed.”_ Mewtwo’s awkward first stitches became a steady rhythm he could concentrate on. The restless, understimulated part of his brain seemed pleased to have some busywork at last. _“I didn’t know there were Kazam here, too.”_

 **“They stay up north, mostly. They were refugees, generations ago. Now they are a part of this land.”** Yanna went from watching Mewtwo’s work carefully to relaxing. The massive couch was the perfect size for a pokemon as large as him to stretch out comfortably. **“You don’t need to hide your odd appearance here, you’re a guest; to mention that you look strange is something cubs do.”**

_“Oh, they already did.”_

**“Well, they’re small and don’t know any better yet.”**

With some nervous hesitance, Mewtwo took advantage of the lack of eyes on him to pull down his hood, revealing his neck cord and surgery scars. His ears flicked, no longer trapped under the fabric.

 **“So,”** Yanna’s rumbling was the closest he could get to a whisper, **“Why are you really here?”**

 _“Well, um, you see-”_ Two fumbled with the needles, losing the rhythm of his concentration. Yanna took the piece and show him how to correct his mistake, and gave him a moment to collect himself.

 _“Char’s back on the circuit!”_ The clone blurted out.

This time, it was Yanna who fumbled. **“Excuse me?”**

 _“Ch-Char’s getting that championship… thing, I guess for closure? I don’t know.”_ Mewtwo grumbled miserably, and curled up in his seat. _“She just left without me! It just feels so unlike her. She used to always want me at her side and now she wants to go cross-region to get away from me!”_

 **“It’s nothing to do with you,”** Yanna reassured. The Hariyama put down the knitting and sighed. **“I suspected she’d do this. Finding that she never finished her journey was devastating, you don’t understand the weight that cup carries for trainers like her.”**

_“I thought she didn’t want to be a trainer anymore?”_

**“It’s not that simple.”** Yanna caught his tone growing harsh, and lowered his voice again. **“With the League ruling over all of us, we cannot simply part ways like we could have decades ago. If she gave up her belt to retire, her pokemon would be taken from her. She would not be allowed to participate in battle, nor keep such dangerous beasts as her bird.”**

 _“O-oh,”_ Mewtwo felt his face burn, those emotions he wasn’t equipped for bubbling up all over again. Frustration from helplessness, anger from being abandoned, shame from being aware of his own reaction. His tail flicked restlessly against stone, kicking up dust from unswept corners. Yanna noted the silent conflict the clone went through with a knowing grumble.

**“Come on, I know what you need.”**

* * *

The late afternoon sun was hot but low, casting a beautiful golden glow across the rocky hills of Dewford. Well worn paths and decorated outcrops gave the rugged terrain a lived-in feel Mewtwo wouldn’t have attached to a place like this otherwise. He felt the warmth here; generations of families made this place their home, ensuring that the next in line would be just a little more comfortable, just a little more safe. It was here above the cliffside settlement that Yanna presented Mewtwo with a stuffed training dummy.

**“Here. Hit this.”**

Mewtwo hesitated, keeping his hands close to his chest as if to protect them. _“But I’m not… I don’t really like fighting-”_

**“It’ll be good for you. Hit it as hard as you want.”**

Yanna was patient as he watched the clone glance uncertainly between him and the cushioned facsimile of a torso. After a moment of deliberation, Mewtwo closed his eyes and swatted limply at the dummy.

The Hariyama ran tired fingers around his scruffy muzzle. **“Not sufficient. It is not a real punch until you feel the emotions leave your fist.”**

_“Are you sure this is supposed to help?”_

Yanna delicately closed the psychic’s fist, and positioned his arm for the windup. Mewtwo let it happen; it’s not like he knew what he was doing anyways. The Hariyama held him still for a moment.

**“Makuhita must learn to control their tempers early. It is through discipline of the mind that we better control our bodies. We share this world with creatures far weaker than us, and we must be responsible with our strength. You are not exempt, psychic.”**

Yanna let him go, and Mewtwo gave the dummy a shaky, forceful punch. He immediately drew his bruised hand back with a whimper. His impromptu coach politely kept a straight face.

_“Very good, but… perhaps I should get you some knuckle guards.”_

The sunlight burned a vibrant orange, setting over the water and casting the two pokemon’s shadows over the rocks. Mewtwo struggled with the inherent fear of his own prowess, even if it wasn't exactly physical; knowing how easily his abilities could kill already bothered him enough without reminding him that his legs could deliver powerful blows, or his teeth could tear someone’s throat out. Even if it was just a training dummy, he still knew it represented a person. What was that person supposed to be to him? Char? Norman? Giovanni?

When the frail psychic started to show signs of weariness, Yanna ordered him to stop. The panting clone sat down on a boulder, his hands throbbing and his wiry muscles tense in his arms. His companion carefully unwrapped the knuckle guards, and stretched and rubbed his bruised fingers to make sure he didn’t injure himself.

**“When we are young, we are restless and volatile until we learn to control ourselves. You were never young, so these feelings are new to you, aren’t they?”**

_“I-I guess.”_ Mewtwo panted.

Yanna took a seat next to him, looking more in his element in this rugged environment than Mewtwo ever did. The fighter stared pensively at the training dummy, which remained less battered than if an actual Makuhita used it. **“You are not a fighter. Your needs are different, I know, but I’ve seen how unstable you can get just from your nerves. I don’t want your anger to get the better of you.”**

Mewtwo gave him a tired shrug. _“Well… I got all that frustration out I think, but I don’t see what the point is if the reason isn’t, well, resolved.”_

The Hariyama massaged his own worn, scarred knuckles thoughtfully. **“Sometimes, things remain unresolved between people. My sister is especially an example. She’s impulsive, and harsh, and she has become numb to the toll of battle. There are many problems she simply left behind, unsolved.”**

Mewtwo studied the stony, unreadable expression of the fighter, matching the powerful force of will that blocked his passive psychic reads.

 _“Why_ **_did_ ** _you choose to go with her, anyways?”_

Yanna grunted. **“When we were young, she was merely a restless cub. Another Makuhita who would settle down as she learned to control her spirit. But then we found the pirate… I’m sure she told you the story.”**

Mewtwo nodded. The Hariyama beside him stared straight ahead, glowering at nothing as a tone of resentment reverberated through him.

**“I still dream of that day, and I still feel as helpless as I did when I was a cub. It was more than just the attack; it was that I couldn’t soothe her, I couldn’t make her feel safe like I promised I would. I failed the most integral part of our bond, the pact we make with our sibling-in-arms: I could not protect her. Not from the cult of Kyogre, not from the plant, not from herself. I couldn’t keep up… I couldn’t bear to have blood on my hands.”**

Yanna sighed, his broad shoulders slumping miserably. Mewtwo rubbed his rough hide in a vain attempt to comfort.

**“Then that thing truly took hold of her. I don’t know what happened in the sacred temple of the Crater, but the destruction the plant caused was exactly as immense as its trainer’s pain. My sister survived against all odds, but would the whole city have been spared if I remained at her side? I should have killed that thing. I should have murdered it like everything else I was forced to, I should have-”**

His hands tensed, closing into massive fists before Yanna seemed to remember himself, and will himself to relax. **“Ah… forgive me.”**

 _“No- no, it’s okay. I understand.”_ Mewtwo’s ineffective petting intensified, patting muscle that may as well have been rock.

Yanna reached over to rub a fingertip on the top of Two’s head, as gentle as a pokemon a fraction of his size.

**“Some things just... remain unresolved between people. It’s a part of life. It doesn’t mean we love someone any less.”**

* * *

The last ferry of the evening was less crowded than it would have been during the day, making the trip somber and quiet for one of the few passengers. Char watched the water lit by a bright moon; idly hoping to see a Gyarados breach the surface, or perhaps a Wailmer’s spout. The dark silhouette of Dewford loomed ahead, distant pinpoints of lantern light illuminating the rocky cliffs.

Dewford had changed little since she last saw it as a teenager, but that was to be expected. It was the human side of the town that saw the most growth; Char noted the shiny new gym and dojo that the League plopped in the middle of a gathering of old-fashioned Hoennese stone houses and fishing piers. It was already closed for the night, so there was no use beating behind the bush anymore. She had to see her family.

The few pokemon still out were the sailors and the workers from the other side of town coming home for dinner. Char followed the smell of the perpetual stews that were being brought out for a feast, in the tradition small Hoennese towns like this still kept for warm, clear nights like these.

She didn’t recognize anybody in the small crowd of mostly Hariyama, who made an impenetrable wall of muscle she saw a glimpse of a human or red Kazam through. She couldn’t even try to pick out Yanna’s chicken-scratched shoulders, with all the similar fighters who saw their share of Blaziken in battle. Char paled when she caught sight of the clan head in the center, and ducked behind some thick shoulders to keep the intimidating matron from catching sight of her. She would need to be reintroduced to her… carefully, preferably with Yanna and Brawly around to vouch for her, or at least be present to hear her last words.

Shou, unaware of the walking, talking problem that entered her domain, gave a spoon that was as large as a staff to her nervous guest. **“Go on, you get the first bowl. It’s tradition.”**

Mewtwo grasped the spoon with both hands, used scoop stew out of a large stone basin. _“Yes ma’am.”_

Char froze when she heard a familiar telepathic tone. All attempts to remain low key went out the window as she practically climbed the Hariyama in front of her to get a good look at the center of the feast.

The clone was decidedly out of his element amongst the Hariyama clan, but the wreath of local flowers on his head and the thick, woven jacket draped over his shoulders suggested that he was more than welcome amongst them. Char gasped.

“Two!”

Tail puffing up in alarm, Mewtwo nearly dropped the spoon. He recognized the woman squeezing her way into the crowd, and his face lit up with excitement.

_“Charlotte!”_


End file.
